Just Like Fiction
by mysterymuse
Summary: When Kate Beckett sublets a new apartment, the last thing she expects is to meet Richard Castle's spirit. Based on the film "Just Like Heaven."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Based on the film _Just Like Heaven_. Season 1  & 2 AU.

* * *

"Yes, Mother. I know it's my launch party," he says into his phone with a frustrated sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, agitated.

"Are you on your way, at least?" she asks.

"The car service picked me up a couple minutes ago. I got held back."

"What did she want now?" his mother asks knowingly.

"The loft," he says, looking out the car window at the passing scenery. The city lights made everything twinkle. It was one of the things he loved about the city; its sparkling beauty.

"But she's moving to L.A.!"

"She's doing it just to annoy me. I offered her the Hamptons house, instead."

"Richard."

He presses his lips together at his mother's tone. "I just want it to be over, Mother. We've been going at this for practically a year."

"I never liked her," she huffs.

"What can I say? She's the mother of my child."

"Good riddance, I say."

"We're signing the papers tomorrow and she granted me full custody," he says, moving the cell to his other ear.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Richard!"

"Can you put Alexis on?" he asks. He hears a rustle as his mother passes the phone to his daughter.

"Daddy?"

"Hi, Lex! How's my little girl?"

"I'm like a princess!"

"I take it you like your dress," he chuckles.

"Yes, daddy!"

"Are you having fun, pumpkin?"

"Gram-Gram gave me apple juice and cookies and—"

He hears another rustle as his mother steals the phone back before Alexis incriminates her further.

"I think that's enough time with Daddy."

"Sounds like someone's going to be bouncing off the walls very soon."

"She's behaving most splendidly for a three-year-old."

"Thank you, Mother. Really," he says tenderly. He didn't thank her often enough. She's probably going through hell, too. Watching him get hurt by Meredith and dealing with Alexis and her nightmares.

"You're welcome, kiddo," she says softly.

"We can finally have a fresh start—something new."

"Does that mean I can set you up with someone?"

He laughs. "Maybe after tomorrow."

"A lovely policewoman just walked through the door. How about her?"

"Police? Guess I'm missing all the fun." He glances out the window again. "It looks like we're a couple blocks away. I'll see you—"

He squints as a bright light flashes through his window. It blinds him for a moment and suddenly, he feels his body being catapulted from his seat as another vehicle slams into the side of the car with a loud crunch.

The phone flies out of his hand, landing next to his unconscious figure.

"Richard? Richard!"

* * *

 **11 months later**

Beckett wipes away the writing on the murder board, thinking about the case they'd closed, one teeming with mummies and tales of legendary curses. It was like something out of a mystery novel full of twists and turns. Her favorite type of case. Esposito and Ryan had really gotten a kick out of it, even pretending they had fallen victim to the mummy's curse. They had been pranking each other all week, unscrewing bolts from chairs and supergluing items to desks.

Now, they were tossing balled-up pieces of newspaper at each other. She didn't mind, but it was a puzzle to her how they were able to act so upbeat with a case. It was like she had forgotten how to have fun; like it was becoming harder and harder to shed the workaholic persona she so carefully crafted over the years where she was more often than not, as Ryan and Esposito put it—a total buzzkill.

A newspaper ball sails over her head and Beckett pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.

"Hey, Beckett! How's the apartment search going?" Ryan asks as he catches a ball of paper Esposito launches at him. She crosses her arms, watching them imperiously.

"It's going."

She doesn't mention the ten different places she visited in the past week when she could spare a moment from work, all small and cramped and way overpriced. She doesn't mention having to stay in a grungy motel because Lanie's family is visiting for the week. And she definitely doesn't want to mention finding a place to live is the only thing she has going on in her life right now and even that isn't going well.

"Must suck having serial killers blowing up your home, huh?" Esposito says, balling up another newspaper article. Beckett cracks a ghost of a smile.

"I really needed a new wardrobe anyway. He did me a favor," she says, erasing the timeline on the board.

"Hear, hear!" chants Ryan, throwing several newspaper balls into the air. Beckett shakes her head at him fondly. Her boys aren't so bad. They know when to cheer her up despite their somewhat annoying methods. A newspaper ball hits her in the back of her head and she turns to face Esposito, narrowing her eyes at him. He shrugs. She spots another ball coming at her from Ryan's direction and spins to catch it in her hand expertly.

"Damn, boss! You've been holding out on us," Esposito says as he and Ryan applaud her loudly.

"Alright, alright. Settle down," she shouts, waving them away. "And clean this up. I don't want to be on the outs with the cleaning crew again."

"Right away, boss," Ryan says, mock-saluting her. Beckett raises her arm as if to throw her newspaper ball at him and he instinctively shields himself from the attack. When he realizes she's only pretending, he lowers his arm with a small chuckle and he bends over to start picking up the carnage littering the bullpen floor.

"You embarrass me, bro," Esposito says, tossing his newspapers into the trash. "Do you want to grab a drink, Beckett?"

"I'm good. You guys get out of here. I'll finish up here," she says, gesturing to the photos still tacked to the murder board.

"Don't stay too long," Esposito says earnestly, slipping his jacket over his shoulders. "You comin, bro?"

Ryan nods, quickly dumping the rest of the newspaper pieces in a bin next to his desk. He mock-salutes Beckett again as he passes by her on his way out and she punches him lightly in the shoulder. He grabs his arm as if wounded. She suppresses a half-smile.

"Go get 'em tiger," Beckett shouts after them and they flip her off from the elevator. She mock-salutes them and hears laughing as the doors close. She sighs, tipping her head back to the ceiling, feeling exhausted. She isn't used to playing light-hearted and it's draining to keep up the facade. Her fingers smooth over the newspaper ball still secured in her hand. Glancing at the article, she pauses when an advertisement pops out at her.

 **SOHO LOFT SEEKING OCCUPANT**

 _FULLY FURNISHED AND AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY. MONTH-TO-MONTH SUBLET. CONTACT REALTOR FOR PRICE LISTING._

Beckett unfurls the rest of the paper. Underneath the advertisement is an email and number for a realtor. She checks the time on her computer. 8:42 P.M. Too late for a call but maybe an email. With purposeful taps on her keyboard, Beckett drafts an informative and concise email with her contact information and a brief background of her job. When she clicks send, there's a flutter of hope in her chest. Maybe this was it.

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Detective," the realtor says, opening the door to the loft apartment.

"It's no problem. I appreciate you getting back to me so soon," Beckett replies. She takes in the space as she enters, light pouring in from the windows and bathing everything. The place had a masculine palette with its strong earth browns and woody blacks, but it isn't overbearing. Instead, it feels balanced and homey by the splashes of color and eclectic items accenting the side tables and bookshelves.

"So what do you think?" the realtor asks.

"I wish it wasn't over my budget," Beckett sighs, trailing a finger over the back of a leather chair.

"I can probably get the tenant to lower the price. They've been trying to get it off their hands for a while."

"Really?"Beckett quirks an eyebrow. "This place is gorgeous. I can't believe it hasn't been snatched up already," she says as she admires the bookshelf that separates the office and the living space, running her hand across the spines of several novels. The previous tenant has a healthy collection of weighty tomes and classics. Impressive.

"This place doesn't have a one year lease contract like most places. Not a lot of people are interested in a month-to-month sublet."

"Why is it month-to-month?" Beckett scans the rest of the bookshelf. She spots a familiar name and her heart trips in her chest.

"The family is pretty close-mouthed about it."

Beckett hovers her fingers over the name.

"You a fan?" the realtor asks politely.

Beckett turns to face her. "Hmm?"

The realtor gestures at the ream of twenty-six novels emblazoned with Richard Castle on the side lining the bookshelf.

"My mom always liked him."

"So terrible about what happened."

"Yes, it must be hard on the family," Beckett says.

* * *

 **11 months earlier**

 _Beckett walks into Richard Castle's book launch party with the explicit purpose to bring him in for questioning but she can't help the thrill that surges through her at the thought of meeting her favorite author. She sobers when she remembers she's running a murder investigation._

 _Before she can survey the crowd for him, she hears someone cry out and immediately finds the source—an older woman with flaming red hair. The woman rushes towards her, her face ashen. A little girl with equally flaming hair trails behind her._

" _You have to help me! I think there's been an accident. My son, he—"_

 _Beckett goes into police mode. "Ma'am, slow down. Can you tell me your name?"_

" _Martha Rodgers. My son—he was—and I was on the phone and—"_

 _Beckett puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder as Martha takes a deep breath. "Now, what happened?"_

" _I was on the phone with my son. He said he was a couple blocks away, and then I heard a horrible noise. Like metal crunching." Martha puts a hand on her forehead. "I don't feel well."_

" _When did this happen?"_

" _Just now," Martha says, holding out her phone which is still connected to a call. Beckett nods, her mind organizing the information and thinking of an action plan._

" _Don't worry. I'll see what I can find out. Take a seat while I check in with my colleague."_

 _Martha nods at her, sitting down on a barstool. The little girl hides in Martha's skirts as if she realizes something serious is happening. Beckett slips a walkie from her hip holster and radios to Esposito who's standing outside by the cruiser._

" _Hey, Espo. I have a woman up here telling me of a possible crash a couple blocks from this location. Can you confirm if calls have been made to dispatch?"_

" _Right away, boss."_

 _Beckett keeps the walkie in her hand as she approaches Martha again. "Ms. Rodgers, I appreciate you staying calm. You're doing extraordinarily well."_

" _I can't believe this happening," Martha says, burying her face in her hands._

" _You did the right thing, Ms. Rodgers. You got help as soon as possible," Beckett soothes. Martha looks at her and grasps her hand in a vise-like grip._

" _Thank you."_

 _Beckett nods, turning up the corner of her mouth. The little girl pops her head out from behind Martha's dress and Beckett crouches down to her level. "Hi, I'm Kate. Are you doing ok?"_

 _The little girl glances up at Martha who murmurs, "It's ok, Alexis. Kate's helping us."_

" _Daddy?" Alexis asks, her voice warbling and her clear blue eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. She must be exhausted and frightened._

" _We're going to find your daddy, Alexis," Beckett says warmly, "You look beautiful in that dress, you know—just like a princess."_

 _Alexis lights up. "Daddy bought it for me."_

" _He has very good taste," Beckett whispers, winking conspiratorially at her. Alexis giggles._

" _Beckett?" Esposito's voice crackles through the walkie. She brings it up to her mouth._

" _Copy."_

" _There were several 911 calls for 72nd and Park Ave, two blocks down from here. We have confirmation of a casualty and two wounded."_

 _Martha gasps, "No!" and Alexis starts to cry. Beckett stands up and steps away from them. "Do you have an idea of who the casualty is?" she asks quietly._

" _One moment."_

 _Martha looks beseechingly at her as she picks Alexis up, smoothing her hand up and down her back. Beckett purses her lips into a somewhat comforting smile._

" _Ms. Rodgers, what's your son's name?"_

" _Richard—Richard Castle," Martha says, tears squeezing out of the corner of her eye. She swipes at them angrily. "This is his party, you know?" Beckett's eyes widen imperceptibly and her pulse quickens. Not him._

" _Espo, any word?"_

" _One of the drivers," he says. "The other two have been loaded onto an ambulance. They're headed to Lenox Hill."_

" _Oh, thank god!" Martha shouts, hugging Alexis to her. "It's alright, kiddo. Daddy's going to be alright." She puts a hand on Beckett's shoulder. "Thank you, Kate. I don't know what I'd do if—"_

" _Anytime, Ms. Rodgers," Beckett interjects,._

" _Martha," she presses._

 _Beckett nods. "Anytime, Martha. Would you like a ride to the hospital?"_

" _Oh, that's too much. I couldn't—"_

" _I insist," Beckett says in a no-nonsense tone. A faint smile spreads across Martha's face._

" _Richard would like you."_

* * *

"So I'll contact the family and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Sound good, Detective?" the realtor asks.

Beckett blinks, breaking out of her reverie. "Yes, sounds great. I hope to hear from you," she says, holding out her hand.

The realtor grasps her hand, shaking it firmly. "And who knows? Maybe I can get you in here as soon as tomorrow."

* * *

"Is that the last of the boxes?" Esposito asks, setting down a carton in the living room.

Beckett walks through the door with another box. "That should be about it. I didn't accumulate a lot since, you know, that thing with my apartment exploding."

"Right. I almost forgot about that," he says jokingly and crosses his arms as he surveys the place. "Wow. You really hit the jackpot, boss."

"Did we miss the party?" Ryan and Lanie peer their heads around the door holding a pack of beers and a box of pizza.

"Only if you count missing out on all the heavy-lifting," Esposito says. Ryan sticks his tongue out at him.

"You guys didn't have to help me with all of this. Especially on your days off," Beckett says.

"What else are we good for?" Ryan asks, lifting a slice out of the pizza box and taking a large bite.

"I'm just glad you found a place. This view is amazing! And I can't believe you were able to get them to lower their offer," Lanie adds.

"Apparently they really appreciate the work that I do," Beckett says, shrugging and taking a sip from a beer.

"There's a second floor?!" Esposito exclaims, craning his neck to look up the staircase.

"The realtor says the family is using the rooms up there as storage for their personal items for the time being. It's another reason why a lot of other people turned down the sublet offer. But I don't need all that extra space, anyway," Beckett says.

"Did you ever figure out who the previous tenants were?" Lanie asks.

Beckett shakes her head. "The realtor who I worked with was new to the real estate company that handled the ad and didn't even know their names or anything."

"This place has good vibes, though," Ryan declares.

"Good vibes?" Espo repeats, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Really, bro?"

"I agree, Ryan," says Lanie. Ryan throws a smirk at Esposito. "Definitely good vibes."

"I'm glad we've all reached a consensus," Beckett deadpans.

Esposito chuckles and scans the bookshelf. "Hey, boss, looks like the previous tenants were also hard-core Richard Castle groupies."

"I'm not a Richard Castle groupie," Beckett protests.

"Tell that to your signed copy of his book!" Lanie teases.

"Wasn't he in that car crash about a year ago?" Ryan asks and Esposito snaps his fingers, remembering.

"Yeah, we were supposed to bring him in for questioning. I was at the crash site. And you were with the family, right, boss? Didn't you take them to the hospital?" Esposito asks.

* * *

" _Can you tell me where Richard Castle is? Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." Beckett flashes her badge at the nurse in the emergency room. Martha stands behind her, Alexis slumped with sleep on her shoulder. "We're his family," Martha adds. Beckett opens her mouth as if to correct her, but Martha stops her with a look._

" _He was just brought in. It looks like they're prepping him for surgery," the nurse says, reading a computer screen._

" _Surgery!" Martha exclaims._

" _If I can have you wait over there, I can get a doctor to speak with you as soon as one's available."_

 _Beckett throws the nurse a grateful smile and steers Martha towards the waiting room chairs._

" _Let me take, Alexis. Your arms must be tired," Beckett says gently. Martha relents without protest and Beckett lightly maneuvers Alexis into her own arms so she doesn't wake her up. Her head falls naturally on Beckett's shoulder and Beckett feels a fierce need to protect her from any harm._

" _I can't even begin to thank you, Kate."_

" _Really, it's no trouble."_

" _Goodness, you're an angel. And I forgot to ask you why you were at the party. Did you say you were a detective?"_

 _Beckett feels like laughing. She did not expect the evening to go like this at all. Meeting Richard Castle's family and seeing how much they care about him has convinced her that he's not involved with their case. At least, not intentionally._

" _I am," she says, "Homicide."_

" _Dear lord! Who died?"_

" _It's actually still an open case. I can't really discuss it."_

" _Oh, of course. I understand," Martha says. After a moment, she asks, "Was someone at the party a suspect?"_

" _Actually—"_

 _Martha eyes widen. "Not Richard."_

 _Beckett nods meekly. Martha covers her mouth with her hand and makes a strangled sound._

" _I'm sorry, I realize now—"_

 _The strangled sound Martha's making turns into a loud, gasping laugh. Beckett bites her lip nervously and then, a strange feeling builds in her chest and bubbles up her throat. Before she knows it, she's laughing along with Martha. Maybe it's the adrenaline messing with her hormones or the ridiculousness of everything in the moment, but she suddenly feels lighter than she has in years despite the circumstances._

" _Oh, you don't have to apologize, darling. I know Richard is innocent of whatever you think he did."_

 _Alexis snuffles and Beckett stills as the little girl rubs her eye in her sleep. She instinctively starts stroking her long red locks, and Alexis snuggles closer into her._

" _She likes you," Martha says quietly._

" _It's the exhaustion," Beckett responds._

" _Whatever you say," Martha says, "She already trusts you more than her own mother." Martha gasps suddenly, "Meredith. She doesn't know."_

" _Here, take my phone," Beckett says, holding her cell out to Martha._

" _I don't know what I would do without you, Detective," Martha says sincerely, giving Kate a kiss on the cheek. She takes the phone and moves into a hallway to make calls. Beckett watches Martha and is overcome with the strange urge to cry. It's definitely the exhaustion, but talking with Martha and holding Alexis remind her what it was like when her mom was alive. What it felt like to be a part of a caring and loving family. She hopes Alexis doesn't have to suffer the same tragedy as her—the loss of a parent. She rests her cheek on the girl's head and closes her eyes for a moment._

 _Later, she feels someone nudging her shoulder and opens her eyes, looking around blearily._

" _What's goin' on?"_

" _The doctor's here, Detective. They're done with Richard's surgery."_

 _Beckett blinks a few more times, and sits up, realizing she's no longer holding Alexis._

" _Where's Alexis?"_

" _One of the nurses put her down in an on-call room. She's alright," Martha assures her. "I didn't want to wake you, but I thought you might want to hear what the doctor had to stay since you've been so nice to wait with us."_

" _Of course. How long was I out?" Beckett asks, rubbing at her temple._

" _A couple hours. I made you some coffee. Here," Martha pushes a warm cup of coffee into her palm, and she accepts it, taking a long sip._

" _This is good. What's in this?"_

" _A lot of creamer and some spices I scrounged from the hospital cafeteria. Richard taught me how to make coffee properly. Said he didn't want me poisoning the masses with my strange concoctions."_

 _Beckett lifts the corners of her mouth into a small smile. She can tell Martha is barely holding it together. The poor woman probably hadn't gotten any sleep all night. "Well, he's a great teacher."_

" _You're kind."_

" _Shall we see what the doctor has to say?" Beckett asks gamely._

" _We shall," Martha responds, adopting Beckett's tone._

 _They approach the nurse's desk where the doctor's waiting and shake his hand in greeting._

" _What's the word?" Martha asks, her hands twisting together nervously._

" _He's stable."_

 _Martha shoulders sag with relief and she gives Kate a hopeful look._

" _He lost oxygen for quite a bit, but we were able to resuscitate him. However, with the extent of his other injuries, it's difficult to say when he might wake up," the doctor adds._

" _What does that mean?" Beckett asks, crossing her arms._

 _The doctor pauses, and he shifts his gaze between them slowly. "Well, it means we had to open his skull and perform brain surgery to reduce his cranial swelling."_

" _Brain surgery?" Martha squeaks, her face turning a light shade of green. Beckett uncrosses her arms and reaches for Martha's hand and squeezes it comfortingly._

" _It could be a couple days. Or a couple weeks," the doctor says._

" _Weeks!" Martha shouts. She grabs Beckett's hand so hard, she loses circulation for a moment._

" _Are you saying he's in a coma?" Beckett clarifies._

" _We won't know for sure until we get a CAT scan, but in my professional opinion, it might be a while," the doctor says._

" _When can we see him?" Martha asks._

" _I want to keep him in observation for the rest of the night in case anything changes. I suggest going home for the night and getting some rest. You can see him in the morning."_

 _Martha releases Beckett's hand and throws her arms around the doctor's neck. "Thank you for keeping him alive," she says fiercely._

" _Just doing my job, Ma'am."_

" _And thank you, Detective." She embraces Beckett, hugging her tightly. "You've done more than you know." Martha lets her go and wipes at her eyes. "Now, please go home. I've kept you far too long."_

" _Here's my card if you need anything else."_

 _Martha pulls her in for another hug. "I can't wait to tell Richard he was saved by a gorgeous homicide detective."_

" _Martha, I didn't—"_

" _Oh, shush. You helped."_

" _Right," Beckett says, blinking away some miscreant tears. "Please don't hesitate to call."_

" _Go home!" Martha says, emphatically pushing her towards the exit._

" _Say bye to Alexis for me," Beckett says and waves as she leaves the hospital, leaving Martha alone._

* * *

"Yeah, I took them to the hospital. But that it was a while ago."

"Did he survive the crash?" Ryan asks.

"He did, but last I heard, he was still in a coma," Beckett replies.

"You don't think he died, do you?" Lanie says with a slight gasp in her voice.

"It would've been in the news," Beckett says, glancing around the room. "Right?"

* * *

Kate boots up her laptop after they all leave, and swiftly types his name into a search engine. She doesn't know why she cares so much. Maybe it was because she grew close to his family in the weeks after his accident and felt an attachment to them. Martha called her number, updating her on his condition on a weekly basis. She, herself, had never stopped by the hospital because of her increasing case load, but Martha told her stories about him raising Alexis or from when he was younger. It was soothing for her to forget about the tragedies of her own life and lose herself in the world Martha was building for her, one filled with a mischievous little boy and a young, nervous father. It was nice to hear about the soft and playful side of him since she was used to his glamorous image of the roguish and arrogant millionaire with the young and beautiful actress.

Beckett scrolls through the search results. The earliest news article is from nine months ago detailing that Castle's wife, Meredith Harper, moved him into a long-term care facility. The date is from around the same time Martha had stopped calling her. She closes the laptop and grabs a new beer from the pack Ryan had brought over. Taking a sip, she surveys the apartment again and settles into the couch while kicking her feet onto the coffee table. She sighs, content. She could get used to this.

* * *

The next few days are a blur as they catch a new case and Esposito deals with his old partner betraying him. A robbery detective they collaborate with asks her out for drinks after the case is finished. She reluctantly turns him down. She isn't used to dating anymore, and she's not ready to start up again. He's cute and charming, and maybe in another time, she would've said yes.

She drops her bag when she walks into the door that night. She shakes out her hair and shucks off her shoes on the way to the kitchen where she starts up the coffee maker. Opening the fridge, she wrinkles her nose at the old takeout cluttering the shelves. She decides to call in a new order from her favorite Thai place and pours herself a cup of coffee.

In her new office, she opens the shutters on the window and leans back on the edge of her desk to look at web of photos and facts she had put up in the past few days. Her mother's case. Everything is already burned into her brain, the names and dates, but having the visuals and a makeshift murder board allows her to organize her thoughts. She looks at the new name she added a few weeks ago—Dick Coonan, the assassin hired to kill her mother. It didn't make sense. Why hire an assassin? What did her mother know?

Beckett pulls out a box of her mother's old files from underneath the desk and starts spreading them out on the floor. Her mother must've written something down somewhere.

She yawns hours later and she checks the watch on her wrist. It's nearing 2:00 A.M. She pokes at her empty carton of Thai and takes a sip from her coffee cup only to find it has grown cold. She unfolds her legs and stretches as she stands up, her muscles cracking.

In the kitchen, the coffee maker beeps and she nudges the fresh pot out of the machine. She's about to pour some in her mug when she hears a shout. Looking up, she sees someone standing in her kitchen. With a gasp, she drops the coffee pot and it shatters as it hits the floor.

She bends to pick up the pieces of glass, her mind reeling. Glancing up again at the man in her kitchen, she blinks a couple of times. This isn't happening.

Richard Castle couldn't possibly be standing in front of her right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for all the nice reviews and interest in this story!

* * *

He's wearing an evening suit with a blue shirt, his collar popped open at the throat. It's sexy and oh god, why is she staring at him like an idiot? Why isn't she saying anything?

"Please don't hurt me," he squeaks. She blinks again, breaking out of her trance.

"Hurt you?"

He tilts his head at her hand meaningfully.

Beckett looks down at her hand tightly grasping the handle of the coffee pot. It has shards of glass hanging from the lip. She grimaces slightly and sets it down on the counter, holding up her hands in surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Castle nods his head slowly at her as if he's hesitant to believe her.

"Not that I don't mind a beautiful woman in my kitchen, but I don't remember inviting you in. Do I know you?"

"No, I—"

"Did we—" he flicks his hand between them, "you know?"

Her eyes widen. "No—um," she stammers, "You're married."

"Separated," he defends.

"Well, we didn't," she says, straightening out her shoulders and jutting out her chin at him.

"You know, I've never had a fan break into my place before."

"Not a fan." She crosses her arms.

"This is kind of exciting."

She raises her eyebrow slightly. _His place?_

"Hold on. You live here?"

"For the past four years." He looks at her like she's crazy. And maybe she is—she's certainly starting to feel like it.

"But I live here," she says dumbly and her eyes skirt the room as if looking for hidden cameras. This is some cruel prank.

"Wow, you're really committed to this bit."

"What bit?"

"The deranged fan who will do anything to meet me?"

"I am not deranged," she says, slightly miffed.

"Right," he says, unconvinced."Look, if I give you an autograph, will you leave?"

"An autograph?"

"Where would you like it?" He glances at her chest hotly. She gulps.

"Look, I'm going to call the realtor and clear this up."

He looks at the clock on the microwave. "At 2 A.M.?"

Beckett bends her back to the ceiling, frustration building in her chest. Something niggles in the back of her mind. Something isn't right about all of this.

"How did you get in here?"

He looks at her strangely. "Through the…" he trails off, his brows cinching together. He rubs his hand against his jawline. "That's weird. I can't remember." His clear blue eyes, a carbon copy of his daughter's, cloud with confusion and she spots a flash of something else, something like fear. Beckett tries to fit the facts together in her head, but it doesn't make sense. He's supposed to be in a coma.

"Are you sure we didn't sleep to—"

"Mr. Castle!"

"Right, I'll take that as a definite no." His gaze travels past the dining room and lands on the stairs. "Mother," he says. "I'm sure she had something to do with this."

Beckett follows him as he treks up the stairs. "There's no one up there," she calls after him.

"What are you talking about?"

"No one's been up here in months."

He ignores her and tries to open the first door in the hall, but it's like his hand can't reach the door knob. It must be her eyes playing tricks on her, but she swears she sees his hand go _through_ the door knob.

"Why can't I open the door?"

She steps next to him and turns the knob easily. He stammers and she pushes the door open, its hinges squeaking from disuse.

Flicking on the lights, Beckett surveys the room full of boxes. She glances at him. He opens his mouth slightly, "How?" A name decorates one of the pastel green walls. Her heart tumbles in her chest. Alexis.

"I don't understand," he says. He steps away from the doorway. She watches him pace the hallway, agitated, and then head back towards the stairs. She goes after him but finds him gone when she turns the corner.

"Mr. Castle?"

An odd feeling passes through her.

"Hello?" she calls out.

She walks to the kitchen. He's not there. She checks the living room, the office, and the master bedroom. Where did he go? It was like—like he disappeared into thin air.

She rubs her forehead. Too much caffeine and sleep deprivation were clearly making her see things.

The next morning she steps out of the shower, wrapping her towel around her. Steam billows throughout the room, the mirror fogging with mist. She wipes at it and cries out when she catches his face in the reflection.

"Are you sure you're not deranged?" he asks. She gasps, but when she turns to face him, he's gone.

Her pulse racing, she gulps down an entire cup of coffee before work as if to calm her nerves. This is getting out of hand.

* * *

Beckett meets up with Lanie later for drinks. She knows her friend will be an objective viewpoint about whatever she's experiencing. Lanie sips from her Cosmopolitan and relishes in the taste.

"Mmm, that hits the spot."

Beckett squirms in her seat, just waiting to spill everything but not sure how to begin. How do you tell your best friend you're going insane?

"Lanie, I'm seeing someone," she blurts out.

Lanie quirks an eyebrow. "I'm glad that you're finally putting yourself out there. Who is he and when can I meet him?"

Beckett takes a deep breath. "No, Lanie. I'm seeing someone who isn't _there."_

Lanie takes another sip of her drink. "Like he's emotionally unavailable?" Beckett imperceptibly shakes her head, throwing Lanie a loaded look. Lanie's face unfolds slowly with understanding. "Oh, you mean like a hallucination." Beckett nods, relief coursing through her.

"Twice, in my apartment. A man."

"Is he cute?"

"Lanie!"

"Right. Were you drunk?"

"More like sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated. It was 2 A.M."

"Very common causes of seeing people who aren't there."

"It's not that, Lanie," Beckett says, tapping her fingers on the bartop nervously. "When have I ever told you I hallucinated a famous mystery novelist?"

"Hold on," says Lanie, setting her drink down. "This man is a famous mystery novelist? Not Richard Castle?"

Beckett bites her lip, nodding slightly.

Lanie's mouth falls open. "The one from the crash?"

"The one from the crash," Beckett confirms.

"I think I just got goosebumps," Lanie gasps, rubbing her arms. "What were you doing when you saw him?"

"Working on a case," Beckett replies, tracing a scratch on the bartop.

"We don't have any open cases, right now."

"It was an old case," Beckett says quietly.

Lanie looks at her tenderly. "Your mother's," she says softly. Beckett nods, knocking back her drink.

"You told me once his books helped you when she died. Maybe this hallucination is your mind dealing with her case."

"Or maybe it's because he's the previous tenant," Beckett says as she fingers the rim of her glass.

"No way!"

"But it can't be real," Beckett says, doubt creeping into her tone. She peeks at Lanie worriedly as if asking her to tell her she's not crazy.

Lanie puts a reassuring hand on her knee. "I think you're manifesting what you want to see as a coping mechanism."

"A coping mechanism?"

"To deal with your mother's case."

"I don't know, Lanie. I haven't "manifested" things like this before."

"Look. This is the first time we've gone out for drinks in months."

"And?"

"What I mean is, ever since Special Agent Square Jaw left, for the second time I might add, you put this wall up around yourself. To guard yourself from getting hurt."

"Since when did you become a psychologist?"

"I'm very perceptive. Something about working with detectives all day."

Beckett musters up a half-smile.

"Well, you're wrong. I don't have a wall."

"What about that cute robbery detective?" Lanie counters.

"Lanie," Beckett says with a warning tone.

Ignoring her, Lanie says, "You like Richard Castle." Beckett opens her mouth to protest, but Lanie interrupts her. "You like him because his words saved you when your mother died."

"So?"

"You're in his old apartment working on her case. That has to mean something."

"You really think that's it?"

"Do you actually believe that you're seeing Richard Castle's ghost?"

"Coping mechanism, it is."

Lanie clinks her glass to Beckett's. "To coping mechanisms."

* * *

She wakes up the next day with a pounding headache. When she gets out of the shower, she wipes at the mirror almost hoping to see him, but he's not there.

At work, she reviews an old case for her testimony at an upcoming court date. The victim had been crammed into a safe. A mother. She remembers talking to the daughter, telling her that it doesn't get easier but that she can live with the knowledge knowing her mother has been brought to justice. She taps her pen against her desk. Martha called her during that case. Beckett recalls it so clearly because it was one of the last calls she received from the redhead.

* * *

" _The doctors say he could never wake up."_

" _Martha, I'm sorry."_

 _She can hear Martha's voice shaking with emotion._

" _Meredith has power of attorney. He was going to change it after their divorce but he had the accident before he had the chance to sign the papers. She's in charge of the medical decisions and has control of all his assets. She's agreed to let me stay in his apartment as long as I take care of Alexis, but I can't afford to stay there. I don't know what to do, Kate."_

" _What can I do to help?"_

" _Oh, it's alright, darling. I only wanted to tell someone who would understand. You've been wonderful these past couple months."_

" _You've given me so much, too," Beckett whispers, her throat clogging up with sudden tears._

 _Martha is silent on the other end. She hears sniffling._

" _I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," Martha says._

" _You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I have no doubt you'll survive this," Beckett says sincerely._

" _I miss him," Martha says, her voice cracking._

 _Beckett doesn't know what to say to that. She wishes she could fix everything and bring him back._

" _Is Alexis doing better?"_

" _Her nightmares have gotten worse, but visiting him helps her. It reminds her he's still alive."_

" _Have you considered consulting someone?"_

" _Like a therapist? She's just a child."_

" _Who's experienced something traumatic."_

" _I don't know, Detective."_

" _My mother died when I was young. I had nightmares for a long time and I didn't want to admit I needed help. Therapy saved me from that darkness."_

" _Richard isn't dead," Martha says fiercely._

" _I didn't say he was," Beckett says calmly._

 _She hears Martha take a deep breath. "I'm sorry about your mother," she says quietly._

" _Thank you," she says, "And I didn't mean to suggest—"_

" _It's alright," Martha interjects. "It's been difficult dealing with the doctors, that's all."_

" _Do you need me to arrest someone?"_

 _She hears Martha chuckle softly._

" _Not yet."_

* * *

"Hey, Beckett, do you have an extra case folder?"

"Hmm?"

"Espo and I are organizing some old case files, and I was wondering if you had an extra case folder?" Ryan asks again patiently.

"Oh, yeah, um, hold on." She leans over in her chair to reach her in her bottom desk drawer. Her fingers fall lightly on the Richard Castle book she has nestled in a bed of papers before she gently lifts a folder out for Ryan.

"Do you need another one?" She asks as she passes it to him. His eyes rove over the book in the drawer.

"Everything good?" He asks, his clear blue eyes shining with concern.

Beckett quickly closes the drawer and clears her throat. "I'm fine."

"Lanie told us Richard Castle used to live in your apartment. What a coincidence, huh?"

 _How much did Lanie tell them?_ Beckett fiddles with the pen on her desk, trying not to make eye contact with him.

"I can't believe we were supposed to question him," Ryan presses.

"Small world, right?" Beckett says finally. She throws him a half-lipped smile.

"Small world," Ryan echoes. He assesses her as if he doesn't quite buy her answer. She can see the cop in him that wants to probe further. Like his gut can sense she's not telling all there is to the story.

"Need anything else, Ry?" She asks, challenging. He takes the hint. She's not in the mood to be analyzed.

"Thanks, boss." He gives her a half-hearted mock-salute. She flicks a pen after him as if to admonish him. He grants her an approving nod. They're ok.

But now she's thinking about coincidences. And how there are no such thing as coincidences.

* * *

Montgomery insists they all leave early since it's Friday and they have no open cases. It leaves her with all too much time to think about the one thing she wants to forget about. She's vibrating with too much energy. Falling from one rabbit hole into another.

She paces back and forth in the loft with a phone in her hand. Should she call Martha? Would that be too weird after all this time? What would she even say? _Hi, I'm subletting your old apartment and I'm possibly hallucinating your son. Is he still in a coma by chance?_

She groans, falling onto the couch. Why was this bothering her so much? She covers her face with a pillow. _Old apartment. Martha._ She sits up suddenly, the pillow sliding to the floor.

The realtor.

Excitement builds in her chest as she dials the number.

"Griffith Realty, Grace speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, this is Detective Kate Beckett. You showed me the loft in SoHo?"

"Oh, yes, hi! How are you?"

"Uh, great. The people who rented me this apartment, is it possible for you to contact them?" Beckett chews at her lip.

"Why, is something wrong?"

"No, I was just wondering about the previous tenant, that's all."

"Well, the woman I was dealing with didn't really want to talk about it. Some family matter."

"So you think the tenant died?" Beckett twirls a piece of her hair.

"Why do you ask?"

Beckett looks around the room as if the answer will be there. She did not think this through.

"Well, I—uh, I just really love the apartment and was wondering if they're willing to change the sublet contract to a longer lease." She winces at her lie.

"Unfortunately, I can't release any of their information to you, but I can contact you if anything changes."

"That works, thanks." She hangs up, dropping the phone on the couch and runs her hands through her hair. This is insane. She needs to stop obsessing about this—it's like Lanie said. It's just some coping mechanism.

She brews another cup of coffee. She checks the kitchen cabinets for creamer but comes up empty. She should go grocery shopping. Maybe later.

Instead, she pops in a re-run of _Temptation Lane_ to clear her mind. It always helped when she got stuck on a case or was feeling sick to watch the show she and her mother had enjoyed so much together.

Three episodes and two more cups of coffee later, her mind isn't any clearer. What was it about him that made her so curious? Wanting to know more about him?

"You have terrible taste in television."

"Jesus!" She cries out, sloshing coffee onto her shirt.

He smirks from his perch on the comfy chair next to her. _Just a coping mechanism_ she tells herself. Nothing more.

"Too bad that isn't a white shirt."

"Charming."

"I've been told."

She switches off the TV and moves toward the kitchen.

He trails behind her. She turns on the faucet to wash her mug and starts to hum as if to drown him out.

"I can call security."

"Go ahead." She shouts. _Just a coping mechanism_.

"Fine, I'll call the police instead."

She shuts off the faucet and turns to face him.

"I _am_ the police."

"Wait, really?"

"Detective."

"What kind?"

"Homicide."

His eyes light up. "Have you ever considered having a ride-along?"

"A ride-a—this is ridiculous. None of this real. You're a—uh—a coping mechanism." Beckett massages her forehead. "You're not really here!" she shouts out.

He blanches and begins to back away slowly.

"You know, on second thought, I think I will call security." He reaches for the landline on the counter but when he grabs at it, his hand seems to pass over it. "What's wrong with the phone?"

She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. Her eyes are glued to the phone and his hands.

He tries to grab it again, but this time she watches his hand unmistakably pass through it. He panics, swiping both hands at the phone, but they seem to have the consistency of air. "What's happening?" He looks at her, confusion and fear written all over his face. It's like he's transparent. Like a gh—she stops the thought before she finishes it.

"I'm—I'm going to get someone from downstairs." He goes towards the front door, but she watches him fade into nothing with each step. She rubs at her eyes, her heart galloping in her chest.

She doesn't think coping mechanisms are supposed to appear and disappear before you like—like that.

She's experiencing something else. Something else that she doesn't and can't believe...it's impossible. She's a Scully, a skeptic of the paranormal and supernatural—someone who believes in cold, hard facts and evidence.

But the facts and evidence in front of her are telling her that against all odds, despite the laws of nature and rational logic, Lanie's wrong. She feels it in her gut.

She's seeing Richard Castle's ghost.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all the reviews, favorites, and follows.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Your reviews keep me going! Thanks so much for the positive responses. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

It's 5 A.M. when a loud ringing pierces the air. Beckett groans, rolling over in her bed to grab the phone from her dresser. Dispatch rattles off an address and she mumbles her confirmation. Hanging up, she rubs the sleep from her eyes and glances around the room. No sign of him. She hadn't seen him in a couple days. Not since he freaked out and vanished right in front of her. She doesn't understand it, and the detective in her wants to know more. Why her? Why now? Is he dead?

She doesn't have anyone to talk to about this sort of thing, and she doesn't dare bring it up to Lanie again. There's simply no logical explanation for seeing Richard Castle's ghost. Beckett shakes off thoughts of him and settles into her daily routine. It's time to work. Time to find justice for the next victim.

* * *

"Our victim's name is Balthazar Wolfe," Esposito says, pointing at the frozen body on the kitchen floor. The hand is shattered into pieces.

"He won season six of Kitchen Wars," Ryan pipes in.

"Kitchen Wars?" Beckett asks.

"C'mon, don't tell me you haven't seen Kitchen Wars?" Ryan rebuffs.

Beckett blinks slowly at Ryan.

"Right, you don't care," Ryan says, nodding his head down.

"Time of death?" Beckett asks, looking expectantly at Perlmutter.

Perlmutter writes a note on his clipboard.

"Perlmutter?" She coughs.

He glances at her, bored. "All the tissue is frozen from LN2—the liquid nitrogen. I can't get a reading until the body thaws."

She gives him a forced smile. "Great."

"The owner's at the front if you want to speak with her," Esposito says, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She nods and exhales a slight breath of relief. Where was Lanie?

She adjusts her coat and fixes a somewhat pleasant smile on her face. Time to make nice with a person of interest. When she rounds the corner, she catches sight of a familiar blonde. It can't be—

"Madison?"

The blonde looks up and a grin lights up her face. "Bex? What are you doing here?"

"I'm a homicide detective," she says, dumbfounded at the sight of her high school friend.

"Shut the front door!" Madison exclaims, embracing her.

"I know, right?" Excitement crackles in her veins. It's like she's been hit with a blast of golden-hewn nostalgia, and she feels light and bubbly for a moment.

"What a messed up way for us to reconnect," Madison says, "But we should totally catch up later! I haven't seen you in ages," Madison gushes with a gleeful glint in her eye.

"What's it been?" Beckett asks with a slack-jawed awe as she assesses her friend and her put-together outfit and perfectly curled hair. Certainly not the same goth girl she met in their 9th grade French class.

"Thirteen years," the blonde replies, flashing Beckett a melancholy smile. _When her mom died._

"Uh," Beckett clears her throat, "Do you remember when you used to hold those seances?"

"You never believed in any of that stuff," Madison says with a laugh.

"Only because I was stubborn."

Madison eyes her curiously. "You have changed, haven't you? I didn't peg you for a cop."

Beckett lifts the corners of her mouth wryly.

"Speaking of, I actually have a couple questions for you."

* * *

Beckett immerses herself into the world of high-end food complete with raunchy affairs and warring chefs. She looks at the murder board, thinking about the victim's missing backpack of cash.

"Hey, boss. That robbery detective is in the break room again. He keeps coming up here for coffee," Esposito says.

"It's like he's hoping to run into someone," Ryann says, glancing meaningfully at her.

"Or maybe he just likes the coffee," she says, shrugging her shoulders.

Ryan and Esposito share a look. "You mean the coffee that tastes like monkey pee?" Esposito asks. "And battery acid?" Ryan adds.

Beckett sighs, ignoring them both. She puts a hand under her chin and reviews the timeline. Their victim had behaved erratically two weeks before his death. His foster brother bought him out for his half of a restaurant they co-owned. So Wolfe had $40,000, but what did he do with it? And why did he need it?

"Isn't that your friend Madison?" Esposito says.

Beckett turns her head, and spots Demming speaking with Madison in the break room. Except Madison is tilting her head to the side and twisting a piece of hair with her finger. Textbook flirting. She watches Demming puff his chest a little and flash Madison a winning smile. Beckett feels a pinch and looks down at her hand to see she's unconsciously digging her fingers into the flesh of her palm. _Was she jealous?_ No. Tom is a fun and uncomplicated guy, and she's not in the mental space to tackle light-hearted. Not when she's seeing ghosts. Too messy.

"I'll go—I'm going to see why she's here," Beckett says.

Ryan and Esposito smile at each other knowingly.

Madison throws her head back for a laugh, her hand lightly curling around Demming's bicep. Beckett feels queasy as she approaches the break room.

"Madison?" Beckett asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Bex! Tom was just telling me how you guys tricked a suspect the other day."

 _Tom?_ Beckett nods a hello at Demming. He gives her a little wave.

"Did you bring muffins?" Beckett asks, gesturing to the professionally wrapped basket of pastries Madison is holding.

Madison lifts it up. "And cookies. I wanted to drop this off. My way of saying thanks for what you're doing."

"You didn't have to do that."

"They're oatmeal," Madison says, quirking her lips.

"You know me too well," Beckett says, taking the basket from Madison gratefully.

Demming clears his throat. "I have to head out. Case," he says.

Beckett gives him a little wave as he leaves. He flashes her a wink, and she feels a blush creep up her collarbone and neck.

"He's cute!" Madison whisper-shouts as soon as he's out of earshot, "I think he has a crush on you, Bex."

Beckett rubs the back of neck with her hand. "He asked me out last week, but I turned him down. I have, uh, a lot on my plate right now."

"Oh, c'mon, I can see it all over your face! You're totally into him."

"Madison!"

"Well, if you don't want him, can I have him?"

"He's all yours," Beckett says with a flourish of her hand.

"Are you sure? I don't want to repeat senior year," she says lightly, "When we both liked Brent Edwards."

"I'm sure," Beckett says. She plucks a cookie from the basket and takes a bite. She groans as the flavor hits her tongue. "I think I have a crush on this cookie."

A wide, pleased smile stretches across Madison's face. The boys walk in and immediately zero in on the basket.

"Treats!" Ryan exclaims. Beckett hands him the basket and rolls her eyes at Madison. Espo grabs three cookies and stuffs them in his mouth enthusiastically. Madison covers her mouth to hide a laugh as Beckett snickers.

Boys.

* * *

Esposito's voice is a muffled echo as he recites why Madison has a motive for Wolfe's murder. Insurance payout. But Maddie would never—Beckett inhales sharply. She needs to think like a cop and not a friend. It's her job and she's not going to let emotion rule against logic.

She finds Madison at a five-star restaurant sharing risotto with Demming. With an acid taste in her mouth, she brings her in for questioning.

At the precinct, she watches Demming slip into the observation room before she enters the interrogation room. Clearing her mind, Beckett steels herself and turns the doorknob with determination.

"You lied to me," she says, slapping a file down on the table. Madison flinches. "You said everything was fine."

"Bex—"

Beckett presses her mouth into a thin line. Affectionate nicknames weren't going to win her over.

"You know how hard it is to open a restaurant in Manhattan? If word got out that Wolfe was leaving, I'd be done. I was going to let him out of his contract as soon as I found a replacement," Madison says, giving Beckett an imploring look. Beckett grinds her teeth. Her gut believes Madison, but she has to be thorough and make an airtight case

"But didn't you stand to make more with Wolfe dead? 2 million dollars more?"

Madison crosses her arms and scoffs.

"Why am I really here, Bex? You know I didn't do it."

"It's procedure. I have to question everybody."

"In here? Like this?"

Beckett sighs.

"Is this about Tom?" Madison asks.

"That has nothing to do with this investigation," Beckett says fiercely.

"Then why is it bothering you so much?"

"It's not!" Beckett exclaims unconvincingly.

Madison sits up in her chair and points at Beckett triumphantly. "Ah ha! I knew it. You totally have the hots for him. You want to make little detective babies with him!"

"I—" Beckett opens her mouth, stunned speechless. "Madison, he can hear us," she whispers.

"Oh my gosh, is he behind the mirror? Like on TV?" She stands up and walks in wonderment towards the two-way mirror, waving.

Tom knocks on the mirror from the other side and she gasps. "Hi, Tom!"

Beckett lets her head fall into her hand. This was a disaster. She picks up the file from the table, and says, "Madison you're free to go."

"Really?"

"Really," Beckett says, opening the door for her. Madison sails out of the room and Beckett glimpses Demming come out of the observation room. She feels her face grow hot. Oh god.

Madison smirks at her and murmurs, "He's all yours," as she turns to leave.

"Don't leave town!" Beckett shouts after the blonde.

"She's a firecracker, huh?" Demming says, shoving his hands into his pocket.

"That's one way to put it," she says sarcastically.

"She was telling me _all_ about your wild child phase," he says with a grin.

"Are you serious?" She asks, her face pinching together anxiously. She was going to kill Madison.

"No, but that was totally worth the look on your face just now," Demming says chuckling.

"You're awful!"

"But I could still be your baby daddy, right?"

She looks at his pale blue eyes. They're kind and open. Uncomplicated and fun. "Tom."

"Oh, no. That doesn't sound good," he says. He plasters a brave smile on his face, but she can detect the waver in his voice.

"I meant what I said last week. I can't."

"Can't blame a guy for trying, right?" He says, shuffling his feet together.

She gives him a wane smile.

"Can I offer you a cookie, instead?"

* * *

Madison stumbles across the key piece of evidence when she's moving Wolfe's cake into another freezer and a crystal candy heart topper with an engagement ring hiding in it falls to the floor, shattering. It leads Beckett to Cecily, Wolfe's foster brother's girlfriend. Espo and Ryan connect it to the foster brother and they're the ones to cuff him.

"So Cecily was pregnant but the foster brother found out Wolfe was the real father," Beckett says.

"No!" Madison gasps. "Poor Wolfe."

She and Madison are strolling down the street after grabbing a bite to eat at a small luncheonette Madison recommended.

"Love is a powerful motive," Beckett says.

"Speaking of, you gonna pursue your detective?" Maddie asks, curving a knowing smile at her.

"He's really nice, but I just—"

"Oh, c'mon, Bex! He's fantastic." Beckett shrugs her shoulders and Maddie groans. "You're insane!"

"My friend Lanie says I have a wall."

"What's holding you back then?"

Beckett's breath catches in her chest. Could she trust Madison with the truth? She thinks back to their shared history. Yes. Madison could handle anything thrown at her.

"Do you know Richard Castle?"

"Isn't he that writer your mom liked?" Madison asks.

Beckett nods.

"Didn't he die in a car crash?"

"The jury's still out on that one," Beckett mutters quietly.

"What was that?" Madison asks.

"I'm living in his old apartment," Beckett says loudly. Too loud. Madison flicks her arm, and Beckett resists a giggle that slides up her throat.

"Do you think he's haunting the place? Need me to hold a seance?" Madison asks, mischief gleaming in her eyes.

Beckett knows she's joking, but she remembers how Maddie was the girl who believed in fairies, magic, and things like ghosts. Lanie was like Beckett—searching for the logic and hard evidence. Maybe Maddie could explain why seeing Richard Castle's ghost wasn't just a coping mechanism. Beckett takes a deep breath.

"Actually…"

Maddie stops walking and her eyes widen. "No."

Beckett nods. "Three times."

"You've seen his ghost three times?" Madison grabs Beckett's shoulders, squeezing them excitedly. "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner!"

Beckett almost feels like laughing, Madison's easy acceptance a welcome relief, and a weight lifts off her chest.

"But I think he's gone. Like moved on to the next world or something. I haven't seen him all week," Beckett says, worrying the fabric of her scarf between her fingers.

"You're blowing my mind right now. Wait, oh my gosh. I _have_ to take you to this great psychic I know," Madison says.

"You have a psychic?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

* * *

Madison practically pulls her into a store for the occult and metaphysical tucked away on a side street. Inside, the space is cramped but it has a charm to it with crystals and dream catchers hanging from the ceiling. Beckett reaches out to touch one of them.

"Isn't this place just the cutest?" Madison squeals.

"Quaint," Beckett notes, eyeing the bookshelves brimming with spellbooks skeptically.

A woman with auburn hair and a dreamy look emerges from the back.

"Madison Queller! I sensed you were coming."

Beckett resists the urge to snicker. She's dealt with enough criminals to know that psychics are just con artists packed with flash and flair. Madison nudges Beckett. She steps forward and offers her hand to the auburn.

"Detective Kate—"

"Beckett. From the 12th Precinct. Yes. I'm Penny, nice to meet you." She slips her hand into Beckett's, shaking it softly. Beckett's eyebrows wrinkle together, the corners of her mouth turning down. _How did she—?_

"I told you she was good," Madison whispers.

"So what kind of encounter have you had?" Penny asks serenely.

"Encounter?" Beckett echoes.

"Ectoplasm? Luminiferous ether? I have a great seance book if you're into communication."

Beckett shakes her head, recollecting herself. "Communication is not his problem."

Penny smiles knowingly. "I have just what you need."

She begins taking books from all over the store and stacking them into Beckett's arms. Beckett cranes her neck around the tower of novels and gives Madison a beseeching look.

"Is this necessary?"

"These will let you know how to summon him, so you can talk. Isn't that what you want?"

Beckett opens her mouth and then closes it again. _Summon?_ What is she doing? Madison senses her doubt and snags a couple of books from the top of her teetering pile.

"Just get these. Trust me."

* * *

Beckett reads through a couple chapters of one book before she gives up. She doesn't need to enlighten her consciousness by connecting with the metaphysical plane. She needs to create a timeline. Organize the facts.

Pulling out her laptop, she connects it to her printer and begins typing. She drinks coffee for dinner and tapes articles of his crash to the bookshelf in the office. She also adds the one about his move to the long-term facility. On a blank sheet of paper, she writes _Dead?_ in neat block letters, circling the word several times.

Tucking her hand under her chin, she scans her makeshift "murder" board. Nothing. She has absolutely nothing.

She steals a sip from her coffee and eyes the books from Penny's store. Maybe they could explain what type of ghost he was—one with unfinished business or one just floating through space and time? Scraping her hair into a tight bun, she resolves to give the books another try.

* * *

"Spirit awake. Spirit partake. Spirit without fear, spirit appear!" Beckett reads aloud from a book titled _Seances and Spirits: The Art of Summoning_. She went full out, scrounging candles from around the loft and placing them in a circle around herself. She is deep in the rabbit hole.

Waiting for a beat, she glances around. Silence. Beckett begins to read another line from the book, but pauses, entranced by the flicker of a candle flame in her peripheral vision— a twinkle of soft, golden light. She blinks. _What am I doing?_ She's sitting in a ring of candle fire and chanting to spirits.

She drops the book and starts to blow out the candles. This was nonsense. She picks up her coffee and impulsively takes another sip only to find it's empty. Of course.

"Are you holding a seance?"

Beckett jumps, biting on her tongue. She tastes the copper tang of blood.

"Christ! Have you ever heard of hello?" She cries out.

Castle is standing just outside her ring of candles. He's still wearing the crisp evening suit with the blue shirt that brings out his eyes. _Brings out his eyes?_ She needs to get a grip.

Castle eyes her warily. "I thought I called the police on you. What do you want?"

"I—uh—wanted to properly introduce myself," she edges out. She scoops up her badge from the office desk and holds it up. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD."

He scrutinizes the badge for a moment and glances back at her.

"Where's your gun?"

Beckett inhales a breath. "Listen, Mr. Castle."

He wrinkles his nose. "Stop calling me that. It's so formal."

"Ok, Castle?"

He grins slightly. "Last name only—like a cop."

She rolls her eyes. "Castle, have you been experiencing anything strange these past few days?"

"As a matter of fact, a crazy fan of mine keeps breaking into my apartment."

Beckett huffs in frustration.

"I mean, how are you spending your days? Do you notice anything different?"

"Just the homicide detective standing in my office and making a mess," he says, gesturing to discarded papers and half-melted candles.

She puts a hand on her hip. "Have you talked to anyone else lately? Other than me?"

He pauses, his face crumpling with confusion. "Uh, the other day."

"You don't sound so sure," she says loftily.

"My publicist," he decides. He's not ready to back down.

"Uh huh. And when you're not here, what do you do?" She fires at him, her interrogation mode kicking in.

"Well, certainly not drinking gallons of terrible coffee." He casts a look at the cups littering the office.

"That doesn't answer my question." She takes a step forward like she's ready to pounce and he backs up nervously.

"I'm a writer. I'm writing, of course," he says helplessly.

She raises her eyebrow. "Has anything dramatic happened to you recently?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." She bites her upper lip. "Like dying?"

"What?"

"You were in an accident, Castle."

"You're not making any sense," he says, pushing his fingers into his forehead as if to press out the answers he's searching for.

"You were in a coma and now you're here. It doesn't make sense unless you consider the alternative," she says, taking another step forward. He backs up.

"Which is?"

"You've died."

"Are you sure you aren't pitching me a book idea? Some fans like to do that," he says.

"Castle—"

"I'm not dead! I think I would know if I was dead," he shouts.

She clears her throat loudly, nodding at his midsection. He looks down and yelps. He's standing in the middle of the desk, his body bisected in half. He lifts a leg and his knee appears to hover above the surface before it disappears again when he sets his leg back down. He sinks his hands into the table, and they easily pass through.

"What's happening to me?" He asks worriedly.

"You're dead," she says as if it was the obvious answer.

He hunches his shoulders and walks forward, his legs reappearing into her view as he steps away from the desk.

"Stop saying that!" He exclaims.

"Do you see a bright light?" Beckett asks. Book number four had a paragraph about encouraging spirits to move on.

Without warning, Castle throws a hand at her face and it goes through her head. She tries to evade his ghostly arm but he follows her movements, wiggling his hand back and forth _inside_ her head. She feels a faint headache.

"Stop that!" She shouts indignantly.

"Stop saying I'm dead!" He yells back, wiggling his hand harder. She's starting to feel dizzy.

"Ok, ok!" She holds up her hands in surrender. Castle cautiously removes his hand from her face. Beckett kneads her temple.

"Did you say I was in an accident?" He asks hesitantly.

Beckett nods and points to her "murder" board of loosely cobbled together facts. She watches him scan the articles carefully, his mouth forming the words silently and brows scrunching together in intense concentration. He hovers his finger over the date of the first article and then the second.

"Two months?" He squeaks. "How long have I been like this?"

"Those are old articles, Castle. It's been almost a year," she says. His eyes flash with panic.

"A year?" He scratches an agitated hand through his mop of hair. "Alexis! My mother. Where are they?"

"I don't know, but I can find out," she says gently, trying to soothe his growing anxiety.

"I'm in a coma?"

"As far as I know," she says.

"But you think I'm dead." He narrows his eyes at her.

"There's nothing in the public record, but it does explain your—" She gestures at him, "—spirit."

"Well, can't you call someone? You're a detective!"

"That doesn't mean I have a free pass to everything, Mr. Irritated."

"Sorry. I'm a little tense. Being a _spirit_ and all."

She gives him a placating look.

"I tried the realtor and I don't know what facility your wife, Meredith, transferred you to. They don't mention the name in the paper."

"My wife, Meredith? Christ," Castle says, pressing his fingers harder into his forehead.

"You were about to divorce her, weren't you?" Beckett asks quietly.

He stares at her. "How do you know about that?"

"You said you were separated." She cracks her knuckles nervously, knowing she should probably mention she knows his mother. It's better for the both of them if they have all the facts. Plus, she doesn't like the weight of holding in a secret. "And your mother talked about it," she says.

"My mother? How do you know my mother?"

Beckett looks at a spot on the floor with sudden fascination.

"Detective?"

She flicks her gaze to his and finds his eyes burning with questions.

"What aren't you telling me?" He probes.

He looks so lost and broken. Just like his mother that night in the hospital. Her heart breaks for him.

"We met the night of your accident," she says finally. "I was supposed to bring you in for questioning as a person of interest in a homicide, but your mother ran into me at the party. She was on the phone with you and heard everything happen."

"Person of interest?"

"We caught the guy, don't worry."

"But you were there? At the book launch?" He asks, his voice cracking. She can see him reeling.

Beckett nods.

"And you spoke with my mother?"

"I was the one that rode her and Alexis to the hospital."

He takes a deep, shuttering breath. This is too much for him to take in—the spirit form and the crushing feeling of not knowing why any of it's happening.

"You stayed with them, didn't you?" He asks. She flicks her eyes to his, and there's fierce gleam in them, an emotion she can't quite define. She looks away.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Did you stay in contact with my mother?"

"For a couple months, but she stopped calling around the same time you were moved into long-term care."

"Was she ok?"

Beckett pauses, weighing how much she should tell him. Spare him, really.

"She's a strong woman," she says eventually.

The corners of his mouth lift up in a ghost of a smile. "That's my girl," he murmurs softly. "And Alexis?"

Beckett hesitates. "Nightmares," she says, closing her eyes briefly. She can't bear to see his face, but she hears him curse silently under his breath.

"Detective Beckett?" He asks.

She opens her eyes. "So formal."

"Beckett," he acquiesces with a slight smirk.

"Don't you think it's time to give my mother a call back?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Beckett cards a hand through her hair.

"Castle, I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"It wouldn't make any sense!"

"Why does it have to make sense? Make up a reason!"

"And say what?"

"You're just checking in. You want to see how she's holding up."

"What about you?"

"You don't even have to mention me."

"I don't know."

"I'm sure she'll be ecstatic to hear from you," he says.

Beckett's face darkens.

"I'm not calling her."

"Why not?"

"Please stop asking me," she says and starts picking up the candles and books around the office, studiously ignoring him.

"You're being completely unreasonable!" Castle asserts.

Beckett sets everything in neat piles on the desk and stretches her arms out in an exaggerated yawn.

"I'm going to bed."

"But what about figuring out if I'm dead or not? Or calling my mother?"

She walks around him to go into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, but he easily passes through and puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm not leaving until you call my mother."

"It's midnight, Castle. Give it a rest."

"So you'll call her in the morning?"

"No."

Beckett changes into a pajama shirt with her back turned to him.

"Why not?"

She picks up her toothbrush in the bathroom and brushes in hard, tight circles. Like she's venting her annoyance with him onto her teeth. She spits and gurgles water loudly, pretending not to hear him.

"Just send her a text. It can just say hello. Something!" He says.

She splashes water onto her face and gently dries it with a towel. Castle's face looms right in front of hers when she takes the towel off her face.

"Please call her."

Beckett flicks the towel at him, but it only falls through him, landing limply on the ground.

"Very mature," he says.

She flashes him a smirk and flicks off the lights as she slips under the bedcovers. He materializes right next to her on the bed, sitting up against the pillows, and crosses his arms defiantly.

"Call my mother," he orders.

"How are you lying on the bed like that?"

Castle glances at his body, frowning. "I don't know. I just thought it, and now I'm here."

"So if you concentrate, you can sit on things?"

"Seems like it," he says.

"Huh." Beckett turns away from him and closes her eyes, feigning sleep.

He's quiet. Finally.

"Don't think you distracted me. I'm serious about you calling my mother."

She groans and puts a pillow on her head to block him out.

"Go away!"

"Just call her!"

* * *

In the morning, Beckett hits the alarm on her nightstand and sits up, wiping at her eyes blearily. She caught a few hours of sleep despite Castle's incessant chattering and insistence that she pick up a phone.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Time to dial those numbers and make a call."

Beckett throws a pillow at him but it sails right through him. He grins. "You missed."

She shuffles into the kitchen, her hands over her ears.

"Call her. Call her. Call her," Castle sing-songs.

Beckett turns on the coffee maker and it rattles and creaks loudly as it warms up.

"How old is that thing?

"Don't know."

"Have you ever heard of an espresso machine?"

"I don't need frills and flavor. I like it black," she says.

"To match your cold, black heart," he replies.

Beckett pulls a fresh mug from the sink and pours herself a cup as Castle continues to talk at her. She sighs, closing her eyes and taking a sip.

"You didn't even put creamer in! What kind of monster are you?"

"One that's not calling your mother." she says cheekily.

"Oh, c'mon!"

She brings her coffee into the bedroom as she pulls a pair of slacks from her dresser and a silk blouse from her closet.

"Do you mind?" she asks when she motions at herself and then the shower.

"I'm not leaving."

She groans and takes a towel and digs in her drawer for a bathing suit, only finding an old one-piece she wears to the gym sometimes to swim lanes. She slips it on underneath the towel as Castle watches her unblinkingly.

"It's pretty simple, Detective. You call her and—"

She drops the towel and he rakes his eyes over her, falling silent. She blushes briefly but quickly steps into the shower, pulling the shower curtain forcefully closed.

"Will you at least explain why?" He shouts over the sound of running water. Beckett hums loudly as she lathers shampoo into her hair. When she steps out later, after she finishes shaving her legs, she finds him sitting on the toilet, watching her expectantly.

"You're a cruel woman."

"And you're a disturbing man," she says, gesturing to her bathing suit.

"It's for a good cause," he defends, and Beckett rolls her eyes.

She moves into the bedroom, picking up her outfit and shoots him baleful look.

"Can you at least let me get dressed?"

"No can do," he says, "Not until—"

"I call Martha. Yeah, I know," Beckett says with a sigh, wiggling out of her suit and struggling into her outfit beneath her towel. When she finishes, she does her hair and slaps on some eyeliner and foundation. Castle examines her process with fascination.

She uses the second door in the room that leads to the front door and grabs a red coat from the coat rack, Castle trailing dutifully behind her.

"You'll break soon, Detective. I can feel it."

"Goodbye, Castle," she says, slamming the door behind her and glances over her shoulder. He's not there, and she sighs with relief. Complete silence.

* * *

When she comes back from work in the evening, she doesn't see him. She dumps her work bag by the door and steps out of her high heels. Espo and Ryan always teased her about the impracticality of them, but she liked how they made her tower over everyone else. It certainly helped with intimidating suspects.

She twists her hair into a messy bun and moves into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she flinches when she sees Castle sitting there patiently, his head and chest sticking through several shelves.

"I think I see some fungus on this carton, Beckett."

"What the hell are you doing in the fridge?"

"Taking a tour of your takeout temple."

"How long have you been in there?"

"Have you thought about calling my mother?"

Beckett sighs, shutting the door on him and walking into the living room. She switches on the TV and leans back into the couch, the evening news playing across the screen, but he appears on the coffee table, blocking her view and begins singing. She raises the volume to drown him out but he only sings louder.

"I can go all day. My mother's a former Broadway actress, you know?"

Beckett shuts off the TV in defeat, and pulls out a file from her work bag, dropping it down onto the table with a thump.

"What's this?"

"Did some research at work. You've got quite a rap sheet." She arches an eyebrow at him. "Disorderly conduct. Resisting arrest."

"Haven't you ever dropped your top, Beckett? Cops gone wild?"

"You stole a police horse."

"Borrowed."

"You were nude at the time."

"It was spring," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"And every time the charges were dropped."

"What can I say? The mayor's a fan."

She crosses her arms and gives him a disapproving look.

"I'm not calling your mother."

The mischievous gleam in his eyes dim, and he narrows his gaze at her.

"You know what I don't get?"

"What?

"You should not be a cop."

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Most smart, good looking women become lawyers, not cops. And yet you're working in homicide. Why?"

Her heart quickens. "I don't know, Castle. You're the novelist. You tell me."

Castle seems to take this as a challenge and puts a hand under his chin, assessing her closely.

"You grew up in Manhattan, which means money and you went to college, probably a pretty good one."

She tilts her head at him, a small smile flirting at her lips, like she thinks his observations are adorable.

"You had options. Yeah, you had lots of options, better options, more socially acceptable options. And you still chose police work."

She scrapes her teeth against her bottom lip, her gaze faltering, as if he's found the chink in her armor.

"That tells me something happened. Not to you. No, you're wounded but you're not that wounded." He circles her, caught up in his theory. He snaps his fingers. "It was somebody you cared about."

He looks at her, sees the unshed tears glittering in her eyes, the grief painted all over her face—"It was someone you loved," he says softly. "And you probably could've lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught."

Beckett stares at her hand for a moment and sniffles quickly. "Cute trick." She picks up his file and gives him a look. "But don't think you know me."

He bows his head and slides his hands into his pockets. "Kate, I didn't mean—"

"It's Beckett," she cuts in sharply.

"I'm sorry."

She grants him a tight-lipped smile.

"Does this mean you're definitely not calling my mother?"

"Castle—" She pinches the bridge of her nose as she takes a shallow inhale. "Now is not the time."

"What about my daughter? I need to know she's ok."

Beckett pauses, softening and she almost reaches out to him, but his read-through of her is a barbed reminder of her aching grief, hiding just beneath the surface. She crosses her arms tightly across her chest and takes a couple slow and even breaths, a technique one of her old therapists taught her.

"You care about them, right?"

She digs her nails into her palm, pressing so hard she draws tiny pinpricks of blood. "Castle," she says, her voice fracturing, "I can't do this right now."

But he keeps pushing, sensing he's close to breaking through and appealing to her vulnerability. Taking advantage.

"What about when you rented the place? Didn't my mother realize you were the tenant?"

Beckett closes her eyes as if to concentrate. "The realtor handled everything. They only called her to ask about lowering the price and mentioned my job as a bargaining chip. She just wanted to get the place off her hands," she says pointedly, her eyes opening again when she finishes.

"I still don't understand why you can't call her." His eyes darken, and a hard line forms between his brows.

She can feel the pain vibrating off him, and she takes a step forward, wanting to touch him, wanting to heal his wounds, but he's cracked her open, exposing the rawness of her own pain. "I can't call her," she chokes out.

"Why not?" Frustration peels from him in waves, and her chest pinches. She clutches at her necklace and twists her lip between her teeth.

"Because she won't pick up," she confesses quietly.

"What?"

"She stopped calling me all those months ago, Castle," Beckett says, fresh tears crowding the corner of her eyes.

"So?"

"I didn't stop," she says, angrily wiping at her stupid tears.

"You didn't stop," he echoes dumbly.

"I was worried. She said you might never wake up and that Alexis's nightmares were getting worse. So I kept calling."

"Even from your precinct number? That one must be official. What about that one?"

Beckett nods. "She knew both of them," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what happened."

"Why didn't you just tell me this yesterday?

"Because I didn't want to disappoint you. To tell you I can't be the one to help you." A tear slips down her cheek, unbidden. "It was easier to have you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"What about my cold, black heart?" She asks, brushing her tears away with a lift of her lips.

"You know I don't really think that," he says sheepishly.

"So I'm not a cruel monster?" She asks, a playful twinkle lighting up her eyes.

"Kate." He says her name like a caress. "You're extraordinary."

Her breath catches in her chest as he glances at her for a moment too long, the look in his eye revealing too much. _Extraordinary._

"Castle, I—"

"You need rest," he cuts in.

"Is that so?"

"I know I'm not the easiest person, or uh, spirit, to be around. And you should have your space and your—" he glances at her chest, and coughs, "Privacy."

Her cheeks grow hot and she looks away, trying to hide her growing smile.

"See you in the morning?" she asks.

"Until tomorrow."

* * *

She wakes up in the morning feeling renewed and refreshed, surveying the room for Castle as she removes an outfit from the closet, and checking the bathroom when she showers. He was gone.

"Castle?" She says when she comes into the kitchen and starts up the coffee maker. It shudders and gasps, and she shakes her head, shutting it off and slipping her work bag over her shoulder as she leaves the loft, locking the door behind her.

Where did he disappear to when she wasn't there?

She stops at a coffee shop a couple blocks from the loft and scans the menu.

"Grande skim latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla," she decides, and the cashier rings her up.

"So you do like flavorful coffee?" He asks, suddenly appearing next to her and she curses, bumping into the person behind her in line.

"I'm so sorry," she says to the man who gives her a dirty glare.

"Castle," she hisses, "Go away."

The cashier gives her a strange look, and Beckett gives the girl an appeasing smile, handing her some cash.

Castle waves his hands around and spins through several people in line.

"Wee!" He shouts out gleefully.

It was like watching a nine-year-old on a sugar rush.

"Castle, stop that!" She whispers loudly. She gets more glances from people around her and she smiles weakly.

"No one can see me except you," he says, punching his hand through someone's chest. The person doesn't react, completely unaware they have the arm of Richard Castle's spirit sticking through them.

"Lucky me," she mutters under her breath.

A barista calls out her name and she quickly snags her coffee from the counter, and rapidly walks to the door ducking her head down as if to not draw more attention to herself.

"Hey, wait for me!"

She doesn't stop and fishes her phone out of her pocket when she feels it vibrate. "Beckett," she answers and dispatch reads her an address. Hanging up, she glances at Castle who's caught up to her and keeps the phone poised at her ear. No use looking crazy in bright daylight.

"I have a body drop," she says.

"Awesome! Can I come?"

"I don't know, Castle."

"Pretty please? When I'm not with you, it's like I don't exist."

Her fingers grasp the phone tightly, her pulse racing.

"It's dangerous work," she throws out, crossing the street when the light turns green.

"Good thing I'm basically dead already." He passes through someone walking the other way.

"It's going to be a real crime scene, Castle. Not something out of one of your books," she presses.

"So you have read them?" He asks smugly.

She narrows her eyes at him. "I can't have you distracting me."

"I'll be on my best behavior."

She raises her eyebrow skeptically.

"Scout's honor," he promises, holding up three fingers as if to help his case.

She sighs, knowing he won't layoff and she can't really do anything to stop him anyway.

"Fine, but just this one time."

* * *

"The bullet just missed his heart. It took him a while to die," Lanie says. "But the blunt force trauma on his head indicates he was also bludgeoned with something. I'd say a bat."

"It looks like he was reaching for the phone to call for help," says Castle, crouching next to the body on the bed, and analyzes the victim's caved-in skull. His eyes travel around the crime scene solemnly.

"Well, we know what time the festivities started," Castle says and points at the smashed clock lying on the ground.

Beckett bites down a smile. He was cute playing cop.

"Beckett?" Lanie asks.

She pulls her gaze from Castle and looks at her friend. "Hmm?"

"You good?"

"Yeah. Bullet wound and blunt force trauma, got it," she says and moves to catalogue the scene. She puts her hands behind her back and steps over the broken glass littering the floor from broken bookshelves.

"The victim was someone named Damien Wilder," Esposito says as he walks through the door with Ryan.

"No way!" shouts Castle.

Beckett turns to him, and lifts a questioning brow.

"He runs a line of boutique men skincare products. He has a shaving cream that is ridiculous. The stuff changed my life," Castle says.

"Is he the guy who makes skincare products for men?" Beckett asks. Esposito and Ryan look at each other.

"You know him?" Ryan asks.

"You don't?" she challenges. They both shrug and Ryan picks up some photo prints from the desk.

"Looks like he modeled his own products," he says.

"Are those your partners?" Castle asks.

"Esposito and Ryan," she says pointedly. Castle nods in understanding. "Why don't you canvass the neighbors, see if they heard or saw anything last night?"

"On it, boss," says Esposito. He and Ryan leave.

Beckett motions Castle over to the victim's living room. "Something was stolen from these cases. And they must've been valuable because they passed up the plasma TV and stereo system."

"So you think Damien was killed over what was in those cases?"

"It's a possibility, but look at this writing over here—" she motions to a mirror with the word 'Murdere' written in blood on it, "This could be another motive, but I'm not sure what it's telling us."

"Maybe it's French for murder? It kind of looks like Murdero. If they meant murder, I think the dead body was the giveaway."

Beckett laughs softly.

"Are you talking to someone in here?" Lanie asks, poking her head out from the bedroom, and frowning slightly.

"Just thinking out loud," Beckett replies quickly, shooting Castle a glare.

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the one talking to a ghost."

* * *

Back at the precinct, Castle is surprisingly well-behaved, watching her interrogate suspects and asking her questions when no one else is around. She can tell he's itching to write everything down.

She types up a report of the interview she held with the victim's cousin while Castle sits on the chair next to her desk, staring at the computer longingly.

"Do you think you could write something down for me?"

She picks up the phone on her desk before answering him.

"What?"

"You know how I killed off Derrick Storm?"

"Who?" She asks innocently.

"Oh, you're good, Detective."

"I don't know what you mean," she says, trying to tamp down the grin trying to break apart her face.

"I've seen you in an interrogation. I know when you're bluffing, Beckett."

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Well, the reason I killed him was because I was bored with him. He didn't inspire me anymore."

"Oh?"

"I had writer's block for a while after and then I was going through my divorce with Meredith, and then—" he nods at his body, "But being here, seeing how you operate, I was wondering if…" he takes a breath, "I was wondering if you would mind if I based a new character off you."

 _He wants to what?_ Beckett's heart jumps into her throat. "Me?" She asks, feeling dizzy.

"A tough, but savvy female detective."

She glances around the bullpen. "I don't know, I—"

"You don't have to answer now. Just think about it," he says hurriedly as if he senses her reluctance.

"But you can't write."

"That's where you come in," he says.

"Castle, I'm not—"

Her computer pings and she flicks her gaze to the screen and freezes.

"What is it?" He looks over her shoulder as she clicks on the link that's popped up in the corner of the screen.

"Meredith," she says. "I set up a Google alert for her, Martha, and you, so if there's anything in the news, it'll get sent to me and well—" She points at the headline which reads, _Star of "Seeing Red" Meredith Blake Spotted Leaving JFK._ "She's in New York," Beckett says.

"You truly are an inspiration," he says, his eyes scanning the article hungrily.

"Castle, I—"

"Kate," he interjects urgently, trying to tap the screen but his finger passes through it, "Alexis, that's her! She's there. Do you see her?"

Beckett squints at the blurry paparazzi photo attached to the article and spots a small redhead in the edge of the picture, cut-off but still visible, holding the hand of a young woman. Probably a nanny.

"Why isn't she with my mother? Where's my mother?"

"Castle, calm down."

"I need to know where she is, if she's ok."

"We can find out."

"How?"

"I think it's time to make a phone call," she says, a sly grin lifting the corner of her mouth, and her eyebrow quirks a little.

"To my mother?"

Beckett shakes her head and nods at the screen.

"Meredith? But you don't have a reason," he says, drawing his brows together.

"I think it's time we make one up."

"Really?" He lights up, grinning widely, and a warm feeling pools in her belly.

"Really."


	5. Chapter 5

"Yo, Beckett, you got a Meredith Harper at the front desk? Should I tell them to let her up?" Espo asks with his hand covering the phone's mouthpiece.

Castle pumps his fist into the air. "I can't believe she's here. Do you think she brought Alexis?"

"Send her up," Beckett says and stands up, grabbing a file from her desk. "Break room," she whispers to Castle under her breath.

He crinkles his brow but nods and follows her as she shuts the door behind her and closes the blinds. She whirls to face him and takes a breath.

"What is it?" Castle asks.

Beckett rubs a finger against the file self-consciously. "When Meredith gets here, I can't have you in the room with me."

"What? Why not?"

"I can't have any distractions, Castle."

"Are you serious right now?"

"I need her to trust me and that's not going to help if I'm making faces and whispering to someone who isn't there, ok?"

Castle opens his mouth as if to protest, but seems to think better of it and instead purses his lips together.

"I have all the questions we went over together. We're going to figure everything out," she says.

"Got it, Beckett," he says sharply.

Beckett stiffens, the harshness of his tone slashing through her.

"You don't want me in there. Loud and clear," he says bitterly.

He passes by her and melts through the door. Shit. Grabbing the handle, she twists the door open only to run into Esposito holding his hand up poised to knock.

"Espo," she exhales, stopping short.

He looks over her shoulder and his mouth turns down. "Were you talking to someone in there?"

"Personal call," she says quickly.

He glances down at her hands which are only clutching the file and hikes a brow up his forehead.

"Right."

"Is my interview here?"

"I put her in the conference room."

"Thanks, Espo," she says taking a step around him but he snags her elbow.

"Hey, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she says, her tone flat and final. He drops his hand and nods.

"Is she here for the Wilder case?" he asks.

Beckett wants to lie and say yes, to ease the crease of worry that's etched itself onto Espo's forehead, to let him know she's not spiraling into something, but she can't keep fooling him. He knows her too well.

"No, I'm, uh, working on a cold case and she's my new lead," Beckett says glancing over to the conference room. She can see the redhead looking around and primping her hair. Espo follows her gaze.

"Isn't she that movie star?" he asks.

"I shouldn't keep her waiting."

Espo sweeps his arm in front her as if to make the way clear and she lifts her lips into a slight smirk.

"Fill me in later?" he asks and she gives him a brisk nod, her pulse rate picking up. _What is she going to tell him?_

She sweeps her eyes around the bullpen as she walks to the conference room looking for Castle, but he seems to have disappeared. Her gut churns with guilt.

She inhales through her nose and opens the door to the conference room. She only has one chance to get this right and she doesn't want to mess it up. Meredith turns to look at her when she enters and pastes a saccharine smile on her face.

"Hello, Detective…"

"Kate Beckett," she says, holding out her hand to the redhead who shakes it and quickly retracts from it.

"Aren't you too gorgeous to be a detective?" Meredith asks eyeing her carefully.

Beckett coughs and brushes a piece of hair out her face. "Thank you for coming in today, Mrs. Castle."

"It's Ms. Harper," she says, sitting up in her chair and smoothing out her designer dress. Beckett nods.

"I have a couple questions for you about your husband's crash last year."

"Yes, you mentioned it on the phone, but I don't understand. Wasn't it ruled an accident?" Meredith gives her a doe-eyed, innocent look and Beckett presses her lips together in a thin smile. She prepared for this with Castle who had been all too ready to craft a fictional cover story.

"Yes, but we received an anonymous tip the other day saying the cause of the crash wasn't accidental."

"Oh my god!" Meredith gasps, clutching a hand to her chest dramatically. "You think someone was trying to kill Richard?"

Beckett averts her gaze to the file in her hand. _What is she doing?_

"We don't usually put much credence in these tipsters," Beckett says, trying to soothe the fear flaring up in Meredith's eyes. "But we wanted to cover our bases, you know, check all the boxes, in case the DA starts sniffing around and decides we didn't investigate thoroughly enough."

Meredith nods blankly and stares at her hands.

"You're not in any danger, Meredith," Beckett says warmly, taking a seat next to the redhead and laying her hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

Meredith sniffles, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry...it's just been so hard with everything, you know, since the accident."

Beckett's pulse races. This was it, her opening.

"I understand it must be difficult," Beckett says, her heart beating wildly in her chest, "How's your husband doing?"

Meredith takes a tissue from her Prada bag and blows into and dabs underneath her eyes. Not a good sign. Beckett bites the inside of her cheek.

"He's still fighting. It's amazing, really," Meredith says finally.

Beckett's heart stops. _He's alive_. She wants to grab Meredith and hug her, but resists, instead asking her, "Do you visit him often?"

"I try when I can. I'm in LA most of the time," Meredith says, sighing loudly.

"Traveling back and forth must make everything complicated," Beckett says lightly, sensing the actress enjoys playing the victim's grieving wife.

"Oh, it's awful," Meredith wails, throwing a hand to her forehead, "Our daughter begs constantly to see him, and it's absolutely tragic."

"I can't imagine," Beckett says.

"The place he's at is so terribly far."

"Oh?" Beckett asks carefully.

"It's in Flushing," Meredith groans. "And Richard's mother visits _every_ week. I don't know how she does it."

 _Martha._ Beckett makes a sympathetic face. "It's good that you bring Alexis to visit."

Meredith pauses, her perfectly trimmed brows crinkling together. "You know my daughter's name?"

Beckett leans back into her seat. "It's in your husband's file," she says smoothly, tapping the folder on the table and shoots Meredith a friendly smile. Meredith relaxes and says, "Of course, I'm sorry," with a small grin. "Did you still want to ask me questions about the accident? I'm afraid I haven't been any help."

"I understand this can be tough," Beckett says, "How about I call you if something comes up?"

"That sounds wonderful," Meredith says.

Beckett stands up and Meredith follows. She hands Meredith her business card, and opens the door for her, where Ryan manages to scramble out of the way, barely hiding the fact he was trying to listen in. Beckett shoots him a glare but he's staring at Meredith in awe—completely starstruck. She forgot what a fanboy he was sometimes. He fawns over Meredith and the actress throws her head back in a throaty laugh. Beckett wrinkles her nose.

"I can walk Ms. Harper out, Beckett," Ryan throws over his shoulder as he hovers a hand over the small of Meredith's back and guides her towards the elevator. Beckett rolls her eyes at him as she leans against the doorjamb.

"Wow," a voice says, and Beckett turns behind her to find Castle leaning against the wall in the corner of the conference room, his hands tucked into his pockets. She quickly shuts the door behind her.

"Where did you go?" she whispers.

"I hid around a corner and then followed you in here, staying out of sight. Didn't want to distract you," he says tightly.

"Castle, I'm sorry."

He waves a hand at her. "You were right," he says, and a tingle runs up her spine, his eyes full of something she can't quite name. She casts her eyes down and scratches her earlobe as she clears her throat.

"We should go. Find out where you're staying, I mean, your body is staying. You know, the place in Flushing," Beckett says quickly, a blush creeping up her neck. Why the hell was he looking at her like that?

"Because I'm alive."

"Yes, undead," she says. _Undead?_ She sounds like an idiot.

"Have you met my zombie form recently?" Castle asks with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He knew exactly what he was doing. Looking at her like he was drowning and she was dry land. Making her flustered.

She narrows her eyes at him and he grins.

"Let's go."

She leaves the room and sits down on her desk, booting up her computer. Castle takes a seat on the chair next to her desk and watches her patiently.

"Stop staring," she says out of the corner of her mouth.

"I'm thinking of calling her Nikki Heat."

"Who?"

"The character I'm basing off you."

Beckett's eyes widen. "That's a stripper's name!" she shouts, and a couple heads turn towards her, including Esposito, his face open with concern. She flashes Espo a strained smile and ducks her head down in front of her computer, glaring at Castle.

"I never said you could use me as your inspiration," she whispers. Castle's lips turn down into a pout and she scrunches her eyes at him. Turning to her computer, she types 'flushing long term care facilities' into a search engine. A list of names pop up and Beckett scans the bylines for more information. Some are nursing home and rehab centers.

"Try adding 'coma patient,'" Castle says. Beckett closes her eyes for a moment and takes a breath in. Shooting him a look, she types it in. He holds up his hands in mock defense and glances at the screen when the new search results load. "Look, Park Terrace Care Center. 'Traumatic Brain Injury Rehabilitation Program,'" he reads from the page, "That must be it!" he says, looking at her hopefully. Her stomach flutters.

"We got it," she says.

"What did we get?" Esposito asks and Beckett sits up violently, hitting her knee against her desk.

"Jesus," she mutters. Espo looks at her warily, his eyes traveling over her computer screen and the file marked 'Richard Castle.'

"Are you working the Allison Tisdale case from last year? The one with Richard Castle?" he asks, his gaze piercing and Beckett flicks her eyes to Castle's and back to Esposito. Esposito glances behind his shoulder, finding no one there and gives Beckett a strange look.

She presses the spacebar on her keyboard to make the screen go dark, giving herself sometime to think but her mind is blank. "Uh, yeah," she manages.

Esposito crosses his arms. "I thought we closed that one. Tisdale's psycho patient did it."

He's right. What good reason would she have to reopen a closed case? Her poorly crafted web of lies is rapidly falling apart, and she doesn't know what to do.

"Anonymous tip," Castle says, seeming to realize she's scrambling for an answer.

"Got an anonymous tip about a new suspect," she says evenly.

"So you brought in Castle's wife?" Espo asks. He looks less convinced.

"Thought she might give me more insight on why the murders were staged like his books," Beckett says.

"Somebody staged their murders like my books?!" Castle exclaims, "That is so cool. Do you have pictures?"

Beckett ignores Castle and watches Esposito tensely whose features are skeptical but he shrugs his shoulders noncommittally, seeming to accept her answer. Beckett deflates a little.

"Does the Captain know about this?" Esposito asks.

"I wanted to look into it a little before I brought it to him," she says steadily.

"Ok, well, while you were over here talking to people who aren't there, Ryan and I have been working the Wilder case. We brought on Demming because of the robbery component."

"You did what?"

"He's already located the stolen books from the case, and he's in interrogation with the homeless guy who sold them right now."

"When did this happen?" She asks, worry building in her chest. Shit. She really needed to start paying more attention.

"When you were with the movie star," he says.

"Thanks, Espo. You really picked the ball up on this one."

"You're still going to tell me what's going on with you later, right?"

She glances at him, his warm, brown eyes looking at her knowingly. He was always the one who called her on her bullshit. The one who played her protective brother whenever she got too close to her mom's case.

"Later," she nods, standing up and moving towards interrogation, suddenly needing to get as far away from Espo and his well-meaning looks. Everything was spiraling out of control.

She spots Castle following her in her peripheral.

"Who's Demming?" he asks. She stays silent. "Seems to me you have something against this guy," he adds as they make their way into the observation room. There's no one else in there. Beckett turns to face Castle.

"He's just a colleague."

" _Just_ a colleague? Sounds like more than a colleague to me," Castle grumbles as he watches Demming question his suspect.

"What do you care?" Beckett asks. She doesn't know why she's snapping at him. Probably because Esposito's questions got under her skin. Reminding her that she can't keep this up forever.

"I don't," he bites out.

Beckett blows air out her cheeks, her frustration leaking out of her. "I should've been working the case." Castle stays silent, looking morose. Like he's ashamed of himself. "It's not your fault, Castle," she says.

"I made you look into my life. It is my fault, Beckett."

"It's my choice," Beckett says, "No one's forcing me to do anything."

"But it's interfering with your job."

"We just need to get better at multi-tasking," she says easily.

"We?"

"Keep up, Castle. We're a team now," she says as she watches Demming exit the interrogation room. She leaves observation and calls out, "Demming." He stops and waits for her to catch up to him. "Detective Beckett," he says stiffly.

"What did you do to the guy, Beckett?" Castle asks. Beckett wants to tell him to shut up.

"I just wanted to say thanks for your help on the case."

"No problem, it's my job,"' he says, moving towards the murderboard in the middle of the bullpen.

"You really didn't have to help us out. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," Demming says, pressing the whiteboard marker into the board harder than necessary.

"He asked you out, didn't he?" Castle asks, gasping a little with excitement and Beckett rolls her eyes. "And you turned him down, didn't you?"

Beckett gives Castle a look and he shrugs. "I'm good at reading people."

"So what do we got?" she asks Demming.

"Our homeless guy says he found the books in a trash can and sold them for fifty bucks. Had no idea they were valuable."

"Why would our perp go to the trouble of stealing the books from our victim if he was just going to throw them away?" Beckett asks.

"Red herring?" Castle says.

"I think it was a red herring," Demming says and Castle smiles smugly.

"What about what was written on the mirror?" Beckett asks, pointing to a picture from the crime scene.

"Ryan and Esposito figured out the killer was trying to spell 'murderer' and Damien Wilder was being protested again by PETA for supposedly using animal testing on his products."

Beckett nods her head, staring at the board and absorbing the facts. Demming puts down the marker pen and walks over to Esposito's desk to update him without sparing Beckett another glance.

"Schlemming must be really hung up on you," Castle says.

"It's Demming," Beckett says, "And we sparred together one time."

"Sparred? That sounds exactly like something Nikki Heat would do," Castle says.

"Are you ever going to drop that?"

"I'm a writer," he says as if that was enough explanation, "And you're my muse."

Beckett raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not your muse, Castle."

* * *

They crack the case before the end of the day.

"One victim. Two killers. That's awesome!" Castle says gleefully. Beckett suppresses a smirk, his boyish cheerfulness making her feel lighter. She can't remember the last time she had so much fun solving a case. Castle was annoyingly distracting at first, lurking in the background and interjecting in her conversations with other people, but he learns when to withhold and when to drop a useful comment or a silly joke. It makes her smile, and she catches him trying to tell more jokes throughout the day as if to coax more grins from her.

"And Montgomery is kicking us out early as a reward," Beckett says, stuffing Castle's file into her workbag. She wants to staple a printout of directions to the care facility together but she finds her stapler empty. Sighing, she leans down to open her bottom drawer where she keeps an extra supply. Castle looks down as she opens it and gasps when he spots his book. "You are a fan!"

Beckett quickly slams the drawer shut and stands up, slipping the unstapled directions into her bag.

"Was that _Flowers for Your Grave_?" he asks in awe.

"No," she says curtly, pushing in her chair and walking fast to the elevator. Castle has to jog a little to keep up with her.

"I mean, that was one of my first novels, Beckett. That's intense."

She presses the button on the elevator repeatedly and crosses her arms when it doesn't come fast enough. She opts for the stairs.

"Just admit you're a huge, ginormous fan!"

"Not a fan," she shouts behind her, pulling her keys from her pocket and loading into her car. She slams the door shut and sighs.

"I'm never going to let you live this down," he says, appearing in the passenger seat and rubs his hands together jubilantly. Beckett sticks the key into the ignition and turns the volume on the radio way up once the car sputters to life.

"Hey, no fair! You know I can't change the volume!" he yells over the pounding music.

Beckett lifts the corner of her mouth into a half-smile as she peels out of the parking lot.

"Turn it down! I promise I won't tease you anymore!" Castle shouts. Beckett reaches for the volume but turns it up louder.

"Aw, c'mon, really?!" He throws up his hands in the air in defeat.

She glances over at him a minute later and decides she's tortured him enough. She lowers the volume to a normal level.

"You're mean," he says, a pout flirting at his lips.

"Do you want me to turn it back up?"

"No, no, no, no," he says, waving his hands in front of the radio. "You're the best and I'll never make fun of you again," he gushes. She purses her lips together, not making eye contact with him. "I'm so, so sorry—" he starts but she can't keep the laughter that ripples from her throat.

"You are so easy," she crows.

"Oh, you're pure evil," Castle chuckles. He gives her that look that makes her breath catch in her chest and her heart skip a beat. She tightens her grip on the steering wheel and focuses on the road.

* * *

The drive to Flushing in Queens is quick but it's after 5 PM when they arrive, and the Park Terrace visiting hours are only until 6 PM.

"I can't believe we found out where I am," Castle says.

"We're not sure if it's the right place. Don't get your hopes up," Beckett says, walking through the automatic sliding doors and finding her way to the front desk.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could tell me what room Richard Castle is in," she says sweetly for the nurse on duty. The nurse gives her a cursory look and boredly taps her fingers on her keyboard. Castle goes behind the desk and stares at the screen.

"There I am!" he shouts.

"What's your name?" asks the nurse.

"Kate Beckett." The nurse glances back to the computer screen.

"You're not on the list of visitors we have here. You family?"

"Say you're my fiancé," Castle whispers.

"I'm a cousin and I was really hoping I could see him," Beckett says.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but if you're not on the list, I can't let you in."

"Should've gone with fiancé," Castle grumbles and Beckett resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Miss…" Beckett squints at the nurse's name tag, "Sally Ann, I work with the police." Sally Ann's eyes flash with interest, so Beckett takes out her badge. Sally Ann's eyes widen with awe. "It's important that I see Mr. Castle." Sally Ann leans forward and crooks a finger at Beckett who lowers her head towards the woman. "Are you like one of those cops on TV?"

Beckett nods seriously and Sally Ann gasps a little. "That's so exciting!" Beckett gives Sally Ann a cordial smile as the nurse clicks away at the computer. "Room 602," she whispers and hands Beckett a visitor's pass.

"Thank you, Sally Ann," Beckett says warmly and the nurse gives her a salute. Beckett returns the salute and makes her way to the elevator.

"I think you have a fan," Castle says with a laugh.

"We got lucky," she says.

"Fiancé would've worked," Castle says innocently, stepping into the elevator with her.

"You're still married, Castle," she says and presses the button for the sixth floor impatiently.

"Oh, right," he says, sobering.

"You ready?" she asks as the elevator dings open. His room is right across the hallway.

"As I'll ever be," he says and his expression brightens.

Beckett turns the handle of the door as Castle passes through it. She shakes her head and follows him into the room.

She stops short when she sees him. His body. It's connected to a series of tubes and wires, but— _He's alive._ He's actually alive.

"Castle, that's you," she breathes and looks over at him. He's standing still as if he can't quite reconcile seeing himself like this. "I look so thin," he says, "Too thin."

"You've been in a coma for a long time," she says gently. She wants to touch him, hold his hand and let him know everything will be ok.

He merges his hand with his body as if to bring himself back to life but nothing happens. He climbs into the bed and lays inside his body. She watches him disappear for a second and glances at his heart monitor. It doesn't change. Castle sticks his head up, the rest of him still inside and frowns. He lifts his arms up, but his real arms stay prone on the bed. Beckett blinks. It's weird seeing two of him.

"I'm not sticking," Castle says as he tries raising his legs. "It's like I'm no longer connected to this body."

Beckett watches him thoughtfully. "I want to try something. Go stand over there," she says, pointing towards the window. "Face the wall."

Castle follows her directions with his lips quirked up in question. Beckett approaches the hospital bed and makes sure he's looking out the window before she places her palm over the warm flesh of his hand. She hears a soft gasp from Castle.

"I can feel that," he says turning towards her.

Beckett opens her mouth to say something but someone knocks on the door. Her heart leaps into her throat.

"Come in," she shouts while throwing Castle a shrug.

A tall man with wavy dark hair and a handsome face pokes his head around the corner.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Davidson, I don't believe we've met," he says, holding his hand out to her with a warm smile.

"Detective Kate Beckett," she says.

"Are you family?"

"Cousin," she says shortly and the doctor nods.

"I came by to check on Mr. Castle," he says.

"Any updates on his condition?" Beckett asks.

"His coma is persistent and we take his tests regularly as stipulated in his health care plan. He also receives daily physical therapy to keep his muscles from atrophy."

"What kind of tests?"

"CT scans and MRIs to monitor his brain activity and any irregularities that may appear," the doctor says.

Beckett nods her head slowly and locks her gaze with Castle. "What are typically the chances of survival when the patient has been inactive this long?"

"It's hard to say. We have patients that wake up after a decade and some that stay in a vegetative state forever. And some…," he pauses, his eyes darting between Castle's body and her, "Some aren't meant to last."

Beckett's heart drops into her stomach. "Not meant to last?"

"Some patients are brain dead, or others have too much muscle damage. They could contract an infection or become septic at any moment," the doctor says.

"Sounds pleasant," Castle says with a grimace. Beckett twists her hands together. "And what's your assessment here?"

"Well, he has shown some sporadic brain activity over the past three weeks."

"He has?" Beckett asks. That's around the same time Castle first appeared in the loft.

"Yes, but sometimes these things don't mean anything. Just random brain nerves firing at each other."

"Did this guy even study medicine? Random brain nerves?" Castle scoffs.

"Thank you for filling me in, Doctor," Beckett says.

"Anytime. I just need to take a blood sample before I leave."

"Right, of course." Beckett steps out of his way and watches him expertly insert a needle into one of Castle's veins.

"How come I can't feel anything when his hand is on me?" Castle asks.

"Take my card and feel free to call me if you have any questions," Dr. Davidson says, flashing Beckett a wink.

"Did he just wink at you?" Castle asks, acting slightly insulted.

"Thanks...Josh," she reads off the card. Josh grins and gives her a little wave as he exits the room.

"I thought he'd never leave," Castle says dramatically and glances at her to check if she's smiling. She grants him a small lift of her lips.

"Are you going to stay here?" Beckett asks, curling her hand around one his bed rails. "You're welcome to come back at the loft," Beckett says, "After all it's your place."

Castle looks at his body and back at her. "I—" he stops short when the door swings open and Beckett turns to see two redheads walk through the door. Beckett freezes.

The older redhead gazes at her, disbelief bursting in her eyes.

"Katherine?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Martha," Beckett says, letting out a breath. A mixture of relief and anxiety swirls through her. What does she say? She watches Castle try and wave at his mother, but the redhead doesn't see him.

"What are you doing here?" Martha asks. The woman looks thin and frail, her once lustrous hair, dull and limp. Alexis is sucking on her index and middle finger and tightly grasping Martha's hand with her other hand. The little girl has grown in the past year. Her skin is paler than usual, bordering on a sickly sheen and she has dark circles of purple under her eyes like she hasn't gotten a good night's sleep in a year. Kate's heart cracks. The girl must still be suffering from nightmares.

"I meant to call, but..." Beckett trails off and Martha draws inward on herself, shame washing over her face—as if she knew how Beckett was going to finish her sentence. _You wouldn't have picked up._

Beckett flits her gaze over to Castle. Castle crouches in front of Alexis, trying to reach out and run his hand over the little girl's cheek. Alexis blinks and stares at Castle.

"Alexis, can you see me?" Castle asks.

"Meredith told me you received a tip about Richard's accident. That maybe it was intentional?" Martha asks, worry cresting in her eyes.

Beckett looks down at her feet. She never meant to involve Martha in her and Castle's fiction. "We looked into it and didn't find anything," she says. Martha seems to deflate, a coil of tension leaving her stiff shoulders.

"Pumpkin, it's me, Daddy," Castle says and Beckett sees Alexis look at the hospital bed with his body and back to him. Confusion creases her smooth forehead and she turns to bury her face in Martha's pant leg. Martha runs a hand over Alexis's head.

"This is hard for her," Martha says. "She only sees him once a month."

"Meredith told me you come every week," Beckett says. Martha looks at Castle's body and her eyes glisten with tears.

"He's my son."

Castle looks as if his world has collapsed. She wants to wrap her arms around him and will away his hurt. Martha brings Alexis to Castle's bedside; the little girl climbs onto the bed and lays herself next to Castle's body, snuggling herself underneath Castle's arm. Castle looks at his hands as if he's waiting to feel something but shakes his head at Beckett. Martha kisses Alexis's cheek and wipes gently at her own eyes.

"I'm sorry, Detective."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Martha," Beckett says softly. Martha gazes at Beckett, her blue eyes blooming with an unreadable emotion.

"I never meant to shut you out," Martha says.

"Martha—"

"You didn't deserve that," Martha says, "Not after everything you did to help."

"It was nothing," Beckett says quickly.

Martha is quiet for a moment and looks out the window. "I'm not proud of it, Detective."

"Martha, really—" Beckett tries but Martha holds up a hand.

"Let me say this." Beckett nods and Martha takes a deep breath. "I was moving places and Meredith was taking Alexis. I was alone. And I didn't want to drag you down into my grief—not when you have so much of your own."

Castle glances at Beckett, question in his eyes. She still hadn't told him about her mom.

"I understand," Beckett says.

"It's not just that," Martha says, twisting her hands together nervously, "I started drinking."

Beckett watches Castle's face crumble.

"I usually sober up for a week before Alexis visits but it's not easy." Martha looks brittle as if she's about to shatter into pieces. Beckett folds the older woman into an embrace.

"It's ok," Beckett says, her voice catching in her throat. The redhead heaves out a sob on her shoulder. Castle watches her with a warm glow in his eyes and her stomach flips. She breaks away from Martha, smoothing a hand over the older woman's shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh, dear," Martha says, scrambling for a tissue in her purse. "I didn't mean to break down all over you." Her voice trembles as she gives Beckett a weak lift of her lips. "You're too kind as always, Detective," Martha says, still shaking slightly. She takes a breath, regaining her composure and gives Beckett a look. "You know I'm subletting Richard's loft to a detective."

Beckett stretches a smile across her face. "I know."

Martha's mouth opens slightly, a stunned laugh edging itself out. "You?"

Beckett's hair falls in a curtain around her face as she nods her head, her cheeks blushing.

"I can't believe it," the older woman says, her face slack-jawed with awe. "What a coincidence."

"That's exactly what I thought when I found out," Beckett says with a small laugh.

Martha pauses for a moment, her brows wrinkling together in thought. "How did you find out?" she asks, her gaze suddenly questioning. "It was a private sale. No names."

Beckett can already think of ten lies. One of them on the tip of her tongue—the realtor let it slip. But she wants to tell Martha the truth. She can't bear watching the woman break apart thinking her son will never wake up, not when he's right there in front of her. Beckett looks sideways at Castle who shakes his head.

"I know what you're thinking, Kate. Don't do it," he says.

She inhales a breath and looks at the redhead, her gaze determined. "Look, this is going to sound really strange. But your son is here with us right now."

"What do you mean?" Martha asks.

"He came here with me and he's standing right next to you," Beckett says emphatically, waving her hand at Castle's spirit form as if to prove her point.

"Right next to me?" Martha asks in a small voice.

"Kate, stop," Castle presses.

"I'm doing this, Castle," she says quickly. Martha's eyes flick between Beckett and the empty air she's addressing. Beckett continues, "I don't know how or why but I can see your son's spirit."

Martha backs up into the bed and places a hand on Alexis as if to shield her from Beckett.

"I know it's crazy, but I can talk to him," Beckett says.

Martha gets a fragile look in her eye. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, Detective."

"Martha, if you just listen, I promise I'm not trying to trick you."

"I thought you were one of the good ones."

"I am, Martha—"

"Tell her you know about Alice Conway," Castle offers.

"I know about Alice Conway," she says.

Martha stills, her hand gripping Castle's bed rail so hard her knuckles shine white.

"You were her understudy in your first major show. You gave her food poisoning," Castle says.

Beckett repeats the information to Martha whose eyes widen imperceptibly.

"How did you…"

"Your son is here. He told me."

"That's impossible."

Castle feeds her the rest of the story and Beckett relays the details to Martha. "Your son was eleven and it was your first official Broadway show. You didn't mean to do it. But you told Cas—Richard about it because you wanted to teach him that it was a bad thing to do but...but that sometimes people do crazy things when they want something bad enough."

Martha presses her lips together in a thin line, tears glittering in her eyes. "Get out," she says.

"Alexis, honey. You can see him, too, can't you?" Beckett asks.

Alexis only burrows further underneath Castle's arm in the bed, too overwhelmed by the moment.

"How dare you try to drag my granddaughter into your nonsense."

Martha presses a button near Castle's bed, summoning a nurse.

Beckett sighs and shakes her head. "I'm telling you the truth."

A nurse enters and asks, "Ma'am, is there a problem?"

"Yes, I need you to escort this woman out of here. She's not supposed to be here," Martha says tightly.

The nurse glances at Beckett who holds up her hands in surrender.

"I'm leaving, ok? No need to make a fuss."

She exits the room, slamming the door behind her and marches into the elevator across the way as it opens. Castle follows behind her.

"Kate—"

"I'm sorry. I should've listened to you," she says.

"I'm glad you told her."

"But now she thinks I'm crazy!"

"You just rattled her. She'll come around."

Beckett crosses her arms and leans into the corner of the elevator, silent and stewing. She messed everything up.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you stay with your family?" she asks.

"I thought I would see if you were OK first," he says indignantly.

"I'm fine," she says coldly and Castle flinches, his face hardening.

"Don't take this out on me. You're the one who thought it was a good idea to tell her."

"I thought you said you were glad I did it," she rebuts.

"My god, you're infuriating," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"Should make saying goodbye that much easier," she bites out.

"Why are you doing this?"

"We found your family. You don't need me anymore."

"Is that all this was? Helping me find my family?" Castle asks.

She looks him squarely in the eye, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek.

"Yes," she says.

Castle shakes his head, disappointment consuming his face and she aches to tell him something different. But he doesn't need her anymore. It's easier to push him away now. Easier than accepting she might be falling for him.

"I should go," he says and she nods. He gives her one last look and opens his mouth as if to say something but thinks better of it.

"Bye, Beckett."

"Castle—" she says, but he's already gone. Disappeared into thin air.

Her knees buckle, her body feeling weak. She shouldn't have lied. She covers her mouth with a hand, a sob arching through her body and gasps deeply with it.

 _Oh god, what did she do?_

* * *

Castle reappears in his hospital room, hurt squeezing his chest. Like his heart had received a pounding. He didn't know why it mattered. Why he cared what Beckett felt. Or how he felt. He was a ghost.

He surveys the hospital room. His mother and daughter are still there. It breaks his heart all over again to see them like this.

Martha is as white as a sheet, still reeling from her encounter with Beckett. A nurse hands her a water and she thanks them, shooing them away. They've done more than enough.

"Are you ready to go, Alexis?" Martha asks, stroking Alexis's hair. His little girl looks so grown up and his heart cleaves in two at the thought of missing practically a year of her life.

"Daddy's here."

"I know he is darling."

He can tell his mother is trying to hold back more tears and he can feel his own throat clogging with them.

Alexis sits up in the bed and locks her gaze with him and he gives her a watery smile.

"Hi, Lex."

She glances at his body on the bed again and then back to him.

Martha follows Alexis's movements. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"There are two Daddies," she says.

"What?"

"Daddy is here and there," she says, pointing at him by the end of the bed. He knows his mother can't see him, but he gesticulates his hands around for good measure.

Martha's face pinches with worry.

"There's nobody there, darling."

"I can see him!" Alexis shouts and his mother closes her eyes, inhaling slowly.

"It's time to go, Alexis."

She reaches for the small redhead and gathers her up in her arms, but Alexis resists, pushing away from her grandmother.

"No! I can't leave Daddy," she screams, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

Castle rushes to Alexis and tries to reach out to her.

"It's ok, Pumpkin, I'm right here. I won't leave."

Alexis stops battling Martha, her tiny chest heaving and stares at him.

"Do you want me to tell you a story?"

Alexis nods eagerly, smearing her hands on her face in an attempt to wipe away her tears. She hiccups and Martha hands her some of her water. Alexis gulps some of it while Martha looks at her curiously. "What has gotten into you?"

"There once was a brave little princess who liked to go on adventures. One day she came home to her castle and the king, her father, had gone missing. The little princess was so brave that she went on a quest to find him," Castle regales.

Alexis listens to him, enraptured, while Martha glances around her, confused by Alexis's mercurial mood change.

"The princess put on her special armor and took her horse from the stable. She rode into the woods, where her father had last been sighted."

"Who are you looking at?" Martha asks gently.

"Daddy's telling me a story," Alexis says matter-of-factly and the corners of Martha's mouth turn down.

"Alexis," Martha says with a sigh.

Castle continues the story, "The princess found a cave in the woods. There was a mighty dragon there. It had kidnapped her father, and the brave little princess used her cunning and wit to get past the dragon and rescue her father."

"I think the detective put some ideas in your head, huh?" Martha picks Alexis up and sets her back down on the ground, snagging her hand.

"She rescues her Daddy?" Alexis whispers to him.

"That's right, Pumpkin. And they live happily ever after."

"Hmm?" Martha hums, glancing down at Alexis.

"You behave for Gram-Gram, ok?" Castle whispers to her.

Alexis nods, her face beaming with a smile. Martha tugs Alexis towards the door. Castle follows them and puts a finger to his lips for Alexis. She puts one on her lips in response, a mischievous grin lighting up her eyes.

"Miss Rodgers!"

Martha and Castle turn towards the voice. It's Dr. Davidson. Castle narrows his eyes at the tall doctor.

"I'm glad I caught you. I've been trying to call you. You know about the—" the doctor stops, glancing at Alexis.

"I know what you're referring to," Martha says coldly.

"Right, well." The doctor rubs the back of his neck. "Your son's term ends at the one year mark. As stipulated in his health plan."

"A week from today, yes," Martha says mechanically.

 _What?_

"I know you wanted to extend it, but—"

"I don't have Medical Power of Attorney," Martha finishes. "We've been over this."

"Hold on, what's happening now?" Castle asks, though no one can hear him. Alexis puts a finger to her lips and Castle flashes her a wane grin.

"Miss Rodgers, if I could continue your son's care, I would," Dr. Davidson says.

Martha composes her facial features into a blank stoicness. "I appreciate it, Doctor," she says stiffly and presses the button on the elevator as if to signal the end of the conversation. _Josh_ nods his head curtly and awkwardly retreats, throwing a look over his shoulder at Martha before turning a corner. Panic builds in Castle's chest. Because he remembers now. His health plan—if in the event of a serious medical injury which requires life support, he wants his family to wait a year before….

Before they pull the plug.

And according to Doctor Dark, Tall, and Handsome, that one year mark is in a week. 7 days. 168 hours. He watches numbly as the elevator doors close on his mother and daughter. What was he going to do? He can't leave Alexis without a father. Or have Martha permanently drowning in the bottle. He wants to live. To be able to hold his little girl and hug his mother and tease her lovingly.

He needs to find Beckett.

* * *

Beckett pushes the door to the loft open with an exhausted sigh. Dropping her things, she shuffles to the kitchen and starts rooting around for some wine in the cabinets. She needs to decompress.

She locates a pinot grigio and pours herself a healthy glass, tossing back half of it in her first sip. This whole ghost-Richard Castle thing was getting to her. The look in his eye every time he looks at her and the warmth she feels in the pit of her chest every time he does...it's overwhelming. Too much too soon. She didn't expect to care about him or his family so much.

It didn't help that seeing Martha and Alexis made her old feelings resurface, the ones she nourished during late night phone calls with Martha and little conversations with Alexis. It reminds her of the little family she could've been a part of, but no longer allowed to join. She takes another long sip from her glass, reveling in the cool glide of alcohol down her throat. Soothing and reassuring.

A knock sounds at the front door. Beckett puts her glass down and waits for a moment. She entertains the thought that it's him, but knows he wouldn't be able to knock. He would just float through. Her heart speeds up, nonetheless, when she opens the door.

"Tom?" she asks, almost breathless. Her brows cinch together, sweeping her eyes over him.

"Kate," he drawls, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Ryan and Esposito gave me your address," he says with a winning grin. "And the guard let me up when I flashed my badge."

"OK?"

"We went out for drinks after the case," he explains.

"I gathered," she says, raising her brow.

"And they said I should stop wallowing, and just…" His eyes flick from her eyes to her mouth.

"Just what?"

Demming leans a hand against the door, opening it further and cradles her jaw in his hand. Her heart stutters, but she puts her hands on his chest as if to keep him away. _Oh._ Oh no.

"Tom, I—"

"Just give me a chance," he interrupts in a low husk. She blinks, her breath coming faster and he takes the opportunity to lean in and capture his mouth with hers in a gentle caress. Beckett freezes, his lips moving against hers. She doesn't stop him but she doesn't encourage him either. Did she want this? She doesn't know.

She opens her eyes and breaks away. "Tom, you should…" she trails off when she spots Castle standing in the hallway behind Demming.

"Moving on already?" Castle asks lightly, his face transforming into a blank poker face.

"I didn't think you were coming back," she says to him, her heart tugging towards him.

"What?" Demming asks and she ignores him.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice faltering.

"I just wanted to talk to you, but I can go if you've…" Castle shuffles his feet together and hangs his head. "If you've got company."

Shit. He thought—

"Castle, he's drunk. I didn't call him over here."

"It's none of my business," Castle says.

"Are you talking to me?" Tom asks, his face crumpling with confusion.

"Will you at least come inside?" she asks Castle, her eyes pleading. He shrugs and passes through the wall, coming out on the other side in the loft. She sighs and watches him go upstairs. Where was he going?

"Is everything alright, Kate?" Tom asks, and she turns to face him, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. She was going to kill the boys. Since when did they think they could play matchmaker for her?

"Tom, look, I think there's been a misunderstanding."

* * *

Kate looks into Alexis's bedroom and doesn't find him in there. She peeks her head into Martha's old room, boxes decorating the walls. He isn't there either. She walks back into the hallway and calls out his name. Nothing.

She slumps against a wall, closing her eyes and letting out a breath of frustration. What now? Her head tilts up to the ceiling and stills when she spots something. She places a hand on the ground to push herself up and inspects the ceiling closer. There's a board with a string attached to it. Like an entrance to an attic. Beckett pulls the string and a ladder unfolds from the new opening. Beckett climbs up the rungs and pushes against another board blocking her way. She feels a sudden rush of cool air and she realizes a velvet night sky hangs above her. She's on the roof.

She steps onto the beautifully decorated surface, lush plants lining the edges. Stylish outdoor furniture is situated in the middle of the landscaping but Beckett spots Castle standing near the ledge, looking out over the New York skyline. He turns when he hears her approach.

"You found me," he says.

"Were you hiding?"

"Don't know."

"How come I didn't know about this?" she asks, waving a hand at the roof garden.

"My mother probably didn't want random subletters ruining our carefully cultivated space."

"So I'm random now, is that it?"

"How's Demming?" Castle counters.

Beckett tucks her hair behind her ears. "I told him it wasn't going to work out. That I was seeing someone."

Castle's defensive stance softens a little.

"I didn't mention I was the only person who could." She bites her lip. "You know, see you."

"Funny," Castle says, his mouth forming a small smile. He leans against the ledge, his arms crossed. "Why do you think that is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you the only one you can see me?"

Beckett looks over the city and its twinkling lights. She'd thought about it a lot ever since she first saw him.

"What about Alexis?"

"Alexis is a kid. Young children are susceptible to these kinds of things."

"What, like seeing ghosts?"

"Yeah, and believing in magic. But you're the only adult who can see me, so that makes you special. Unless…" he gasps.

"What?"

"Do you believe in magic?" he asks and she knows he's messing with her. A laugh slides up her throat.

"I don't know what I believe in at this point," she says.

"What about fate?"

"Fate?" She lifts a brow.

"Maybe we were supposed to meet that night. The night of the crash. You were going to bring me in for questioning, right?"

"And?"

"And maybe things didn't end up the way they were meant to be. Maybe I was supposed to help you with that case."

Beckett eyes him skeptically. "We caught the guy."

Castle sighs. "Do you have a better theory?"

"No," Beckett huffs. She rubs her arms together as a brisk breeze sweeps under her shirt. She wasn't exactly wearing warm clothing. "What made you come back?" she asks. Castle looks at her a long moment. It unsettles her, the seriousness in his gaze.

"Castle," she urges, laying her hand next to his on the ledge. He stares at their hands. Close but not touching. His jawline hardens when he looks at her.

"They're going to pull the plug on me."

The world shrinks around her, and she can suddenly hear the blood pumping through her ears. Loud and throbbing.

"What?" she asks finally, finding her voice for a moment.

"A week from today."

Her chest seizes, and she can't breathe.

"Why?" she chokes out.

Castle is staring steadfastly at the ground. "My health plan. After a year passes, and if my condition doesn't improve, I want my family to let me go."

Beckett can feel herself trembling. "But can't they extend it? What about your recent brain activity? Doesn't that mean something?"

Castle shakes his head. "It's not enough. And my mother doesn't have medical power of attorney. I'm assuming Meredith isn't eager to extend anything since she'll inherit most of my estate when I…" he trails off.

"We can't just let them do this, Castle. You're here, you're alive!" She places her hand on his, and he whips his gaze to her. She inhales sharply and her heart flutters. Their hands are...they're glowing. And she can feel him.

"Castle," she breathes, her eyes brimming with hope.

"I can feel you," he says in awe.

She nods her head, grinning widely and wiping at her eyes. "Me, too."

Castle slips his hand away from hers. "It doesn't matter."

She misses the warm contact of his touch immediately.

"You can't give up," she says.

"There's nothing you can do," he says.

"Rick."

"Maybe this is supposed to happen," he says stiffly. "Maybe I don't survive."

"How can you say that?"

He finds her eyes and she can see the fear and pain in them.

"You know why I'm such a fan of your books?" she asks.

Castle's eyes turn a stormy gray.

"Because the good guy always wins. Justice prevails. It's why my mom loved them. And reading them when she died made me feel closer to her." She pauses. "You were right. When you said I lost someone close to me. We were going out to dinner one night. My dad, mom, and I. But my mom never showed." Beckett stops, the memory piercing her eyes with tears. "When my dad and I came home, there was a detective at the door. She'd been stabbed in an alley."

She looks at him. "They wrote it off as gang violence. A random wayward event," she huffs, "They just boxed it up, and they never found her killer."

"That's why you became a cop," he says quietly.

She nods. "I quit college and joined the academy. And dad found solace in the bottle. He's five years sober now. I wear his watch for the one I saved and this"—she grips her necklace with an engagement ring—"this is for the one I lost."

"Kate."

"I'm not going to lose you, Castle," she says fiercely.

He nods his head, understanding. It's enough for now, and she can see warmth in his gaze. The kind that makes her stomach somersault.

"Guess your Nikki Heat has a backstory," she says.

His eyes light up. "You mean?"

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I still don't like the name."

"Will you help me write it?"

Beckett rolls her eyes. "I think I have a laptop somewhere."

Castle pumps a fist in the air gleefully.

"Coolest muse ever."


	7. Chapter 7

His hands tangle in her hair, strong and firm, pulling her to him, his mouth trailing down her neck. She gasps and tugs at his ears, craving the touch of him, the feel of his lips. He obliges her, devoting his mouth to hers, and she keens into him. He's warm and perfect inside her, sending her higher and higher and hitting her at an angle that sends stars bursting behind her eyes. She cries out his name.

 _Castle._

Beckett jerks awake and sits up with her chest pounding.

Did she just…?

"Good morning!"

Beckett turns her head to the side and finds Castle lying on the bed next to her, his head propped up on his hand, watching her.

"Christ, Castle!" Beckett shouts, gripping a hand to her chest as if to quell the rapid beating of her heart.

"You look flushed. Were you having a nightmare?" he asks, sweeping his eyes over her. She crosses her legs together under her sheets, trying to hide the tight coil of arousal twisting and squeezing in her abdomen, ready to explode. No way in hell is she telling him she was having a sex dream about him. A really hot sex dream.

"Were you watching me all night?" she asks, swallowing a breath to steady the blooming heat in her core. He lifts a brow at her, a knowing gleam in his gaze. She stares dutifully at a point behind his head. Damn, him.

"There was nothing else to do," he says and she rolls her eyes, pushing the covers back and stepping out of the bed. He's been with her non-stop since they found he was going to...well, she didn't like thinking about it. And neither did he. It's why the last couple of days they worked a case with people who pretended to be spies for fun. Castle had been like a kid on Christmas morning when they found secret spy pens and had to use code words to find suspects. She insisted he visit his family, but he said it was more fun spending time with her. She knew something else was holding him back.

"Didn't your mother teach you staring is creepy?" she threw at him as she opens her closet and walks inside to peruse for an outfit and hide the hot blush of pink coloring her cheeks. She sifts her hand through a row of blouses, mindlessly searching for something as she waits for his clever retort.

It doesn't come. He's silent.

Shit.

His mother was supposed to be an off-limits topic. She peeks her head around the closet door. He's sitting on the bed, staring off into the distance, thinking, the playful man-child from seconds ago replaced by a man with grief sagging in his face. Her heart seizes in her chest.

"Castle?" she calls out softly.

He looks at her and attempts a smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking—"

"About your impending doom?" she asks and a real smile bloom across his face, a small chuckle slipping from his lips.

"Not much gets past you, does it, Detective?"

"I also sleep with a gun," she says and his eyes darken. Hungry. The coil in her abdomen tightens, and she itches to reach out to him and run her hands through his hair and trail her mouth—no. Ghost. He's a ghost. It isn't physically possible. She closes her eyes, her body quivering.

"Kate?" he asks gently and she opens her eyes. He's standing in front of her now. Close enough to touch their hands together. Too close.

"What don't you go see your family?" she implores, "They're probably visiting the care facility again, and you could talk to Alexis—"

Castle sighs deeply.

"My mother can't see me and Alexis...I don't want to make it harder on her by getting her hopes up," he says, glancing down at the ground.

"We can figure out how to get you back and—"

"I don't want to be sad today," he says sharply.

Beckett takes his hint. Still off-limits.

"Well, I have the day off. We can do anything," she says lightly.

"Anything?" he asks, and she regrets giving him carte blanche for a moment, the mischievous twinkle in his eye dangerous.

"We can't do that," she says, flicking her eyes to his groin.

"Why Katherine Beckett, I never," he says, putting a hand on his chest.

 _Did she say that out loud?_

"I was going to say I wanted to write," he says.

"Write?" she asks dumbly.

"Marking words and letters on paper, usually in the form of a story and the like," he says.

"I need to go—" she points at the closet, "Over there."

A crooked grin forms around his mouth. "I could join you," he says, lowering his voice to a deep husk.

She arches a brow. Two could play at this game. She slowly unbuttons her silk pajama shirt, watching his face grow slack.

"Come on," she says breathily, "Rick." She draws out his name and emphasizes the hard 'k'. He stares at her, entranced, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. He was too easy. She stops unbuttoning her shirt.

"Hey, why did you stop?" he asks indignantly. She gives him a look.

"Really, Castle?"

"You're a tease," he whines petulantly.

"And you're an ass."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Fair point."

She huffs out a laugh, and shakes her head at him, disappearing into the closet to change.

"But can we still do the writing thing?"

"I'll consider it!" she shouts from the closet, yanking on a pair of jeans.

"Will you consider my impending doom?" he yells back. She pauses, cursing under her breath. For a brief moment, she let herself believe it wasn't actually going to happen, that they would figure something out in time. And thinking about it would only pitch her headlong into another rabbit hole she didn't want to jump into. Maybe writing was the distraction she needed...maybe something he needed, too. She tugs on a white blouse and scrapes her hair into a ponytail as she walks out of the closet.

"You make a mean argument," she says.

"Wait, really? That worked?" he asks.

"Don't push it."

He nods vigorously, his eyes shining with glee.

"Coolest muse—"

She holds up her hand.

"But call me your muse, again, and I'll break your legs."

* * *

Once Beckett has a fresh mug of coffee steaming next to her and situates herself comfortably in the plush chair behind the desk in the office, she opens her laptop, creates a new file, and poises her hands above the keyboard in anticipation.

"What now?" she asks.

He pushes off the bookcase he's leaning on and approaches the desk.

"Ok, picture this—a ruggedly handsome, Pulitzer-prize winning journalist shadows the NYPD's best detective."

"Are you inserting yourself into the story?"

"Are you calling me ruggedly handsome?" he counters.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Just tell me what to write."

He nods, a curve of a smug smile dimpling into his cheek. She breaks his gaze and stares at the computer screen, her heart beating too fast.

A comfortable silence falls over the room and she peeks through her lashes at him. He has a faraway look in his eye like he's entering some zone, and then he starts speaking, words spilling out of his mouth.

"It was always the same for her when she arrived to meet the body…" he says.

Her fingers fly across the keyboard as he dictates, and she falls into a world of real estate moguls and high society as Castle paces back and forth excitedly each time he connects plot points and introduces titillating twists. She helps him when it comes to cop jargon, and he bases characters on her whole team. It sends a thrill up her spine writing his words.

She ignores the heat spreading from her belly to the ends of her fingertips, the mounting tension between Heat and Rook overwhelming her, and she's so wound up in the case and the story she doesn't register the hours slipping by.

"At that moment, Nikki Heat didn't want to think. She wanted to be. She reached out and gently touched his jaw where she had struck him earlier. She rose up on one knee and leaned forward to him, and rising above him, lightly kissed his—"

"What?" Beckett interjects, her hands hovering over her laptop, her skin hot and chest rising unevenly. Heat and Rook were in the middle of a blackout. Drinking tequila. Letting walls fall down.

"Cheek. I was going to say cheek."

"Right," she says, making an effort not to meet his eyes.

He stops pacing and faces her. "There's gotta be a sex scene, Beckett."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not exactly writing literature here. And you gotta give the fans what they want."

"I get that, but—"

"Don't you want them together?"

She catches his pointed look and gets the feeling he's not talking about Heat and Rook.

"Why don't we take a break?" she responds, inhaling a shaky breath, and closes the laptop after clicking save. "I'm going to order some lunch."

"Party pooper," he says, miffed.

"We've written over a hundred pages!"

"It's not often a writer has his mu—"

Beckett raises a brow warningly.

" _Inspiration_ , I mean, doing the manual labor. Really helps the creative juices flow."

She shakes her head and orders Chinese. While they wait for her food, she constructs a fake murder board for the story on the bookcase, outlining characters and facts per Castle's instructions.

"So I'm thinking we have another victim who's found with the hexagon ring that left bruises on Matthew Starr's body."

"How will that connect to the stolen paintings at the Guilford?"

"Heat'll recognize the new victim from the surveillance tapes at the Guilford on the morning of Matthew Starr's murder."

"So it all comes back to the paintings?"

Castle nods excitedly. Beckett puts a hand under her chin and reviews the murder board.

"It's the wife and the art dealer, isn't it?"

Castle's jaw drops comically open. "How?"

"Oh, c'mon, Castle. It's always the spouse. Or at least over 50% of the time."

"You're no fun."

The doorbell rings and she sticks her tongue out at him as she leaves the room to answer the door. She pays the delivery man and when she returns to the office, she finds Castle moping.

She sets down her Chinese and joins him in front of their murder board. "It's still a great story, Castle. Just because I guessed the killer, doesn't mean it's bad. And I have an unfair advantage because I'm a detective. It's kind of my job."

"Really?"

"Really," she says warmly, sitting down at the desk and spreading her food out in front of her.

"I wish I could eat," Castle says mournfully.

Beckett slides a potsticker into her mouth and chews it slowly, groaning a little as it hits the back of her throat. Castle cuts his gaze to hers, his pupils darkening. She clears her throat and squeezes her legs together as if to stop the tightening coil in her stomach.

"How do you make eating so sexy?"

Beckett chokes on her potsticker, her hand jolting the carton in her hand. Her meal spills onto her shirt, hot and steaming. "Damn it," she says, and immediately begins fanning the shirt, unsticking it from her chest. She looks down to assess the damage and realizes the liquid from the bottom of the carton has made her white shirt transparent and her bra is very much visible.

"I'm—I'm going to grab a new shirt," she stumbles.

"I don't know, I like how it is now," he says, biting down a smirk.

She scrunches her eyes at him and trots into the bedroom to change. Castle mills around the room and notices the space is darker than usual; it's normally spilling with light from the afternoon sun. He approaches the window and finds shades covering the glass. He focuses his mental energy on moving them and is able to grasp the edge of the wooden slats for a moment. They creak open and he lets out a low whistle when he discovers the hidden murder board decorating the shades on the other side.

His eyes trip over the name Johanna Beckett. Her mother. She's working on her mother's case. Alone. He scans Beckett's neat, block handwriting underneath a photo of someone named Dick Coonan. Hired assassin. Her mother was taken out by a professional? Jesus. She must've pissed off somebody big. And if Beckett dug too deep...his stomach churns—he knows how that story ends. He has a flash of Beckett's body draped in an alley, bleeding from stab wounds and he shudders.

"What are you doing?"

Castle turns his gaze slowly, her accusatory tone slicing through him. She's wearing a new shirt, a pretty purple thing that brings out the gold flecks in her eyes, but her face is unreadable.

"I wanted to open the window, to let in some light, so I concentrated and it moved and—"

"That's my mother's case," she says coldly, walking to the window and slamming the shades closed. "And it's off-limits."

"I didn't mean to read it," he says quickly.

"You read it? I was gone for five seconds."

"Well, I read enough to know you shouldn't be working this alone."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she says, giving him a warning glare.

"I know that your mom was killed by an assassin. Who's to say he won't come after you when the person who ordered your mom's hit notices you putting your nose where it doesn't belong?"

"Coonan's dead," she says flatly, "He got mixed up in a drug case we worked a couple weeks back and I had to shoot him."

"You shot him?"

"I shot him because he was going to kill one of my partners."

"Oh, Kate."

"Don't—" she says, her mouth quivering, "I don't want your pity."

Castle looks down. "I want to help," he says quietly.

"This is my mom, Castle."

"I know, and I think I could be an asset. You've seen how well we work together."

Beckett swipes a hand across her cheek and shakes her head. Castle's heart falters.

"No one touches her case except me. That's the way it's always been," she says, her voice splintering.

"It doesn't have to be like that, Kate." She looks at him and he wishes to god he could envelop her in his arms. "At least promise you won't work on this alone when I'm gone. That you'll bring on Esposito and Ryan. Please," he pleads.

"I can't do that."

"I don't want you to get hurt," he says taking a step closer to her.

"This has nothing to do with you," she spits at him.

And it punches him in the gut, the way she's hurling her words like knives at him. If she would just listen—

"Kate, this case could kill you. I won't let it."

"Don't make this about you."

"This isn't healthy—" She inhales sharply and he knows he's hit a sore spot with her. "You think this only concerns you, but it doesn't. Not anymore."

"You don't get to care, Castle," she grates out, "I'm the one who has to live with it."

Anger builds up hot in his chest, and he's so mad he wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her a little. Mad she won't see reason. Mad he's going to die before he can do anything to really stop her. Mad everything's falling apart.

"But you shouldn't die because of it," he says fiercely.

"This is my life, Castle!" she shouts, "I can do what I want with it."

"At least you have a choice!" he fires back and she stills, his words landing hard. Her shoulders bow inward and her hands fall limply to her side-defeated.

"Castle, I didn't mean—"

"I don't want to hear it," he says, cutting her off sharply. Beckett closes her mouth and watches silently as he vanishes through the bookcase.

She tastes salt on her cheek and discovers tears trailing down her face. She lets them slip down her jaw and onto her chest. She shouldn't have yelled at him. Her breath comes in hiccups, and she finds herself sliding down a wall and curling her hands around her knees, tears clogging her throat. She let her mother's case put a wedge between them, her stubbornness rearing its ugly head and now she pushed him away. He was going to die, and she pushed him away.

She rubs her temples and looks around, the fact he's gone finally hitting her. He left, and his family was going to pull the plug on him in two days. Shit. Scrambling to stand up, she starts searching the loft for him, half-hoping he's hiding somewhere, licking his wounds.

She searches every room on the first and second floor, even checking the roof. Twice. So she puts on a pot of coffee, tapping her foot impatiently. It's brought him out before, but by the time the timer beeps, he still hasn't appeared and it occurs to her he might not come back. Agitation sets in, so she grabs her phone and keys, and drives. She doesn't make a conscious decision to go anywhere but soon finds herself parking at the precinct and walking up to the fourth floor. Maybe she can distract herself with something else.

She drops her things on her desk and traces her hand on the file she forgot to put away the other day—the Tisdale case. She opens the file and starts re-reading everything.

They put Cabot away on a partial print they found on their last victim. But everything else had been wiped clean. It's out of place, like an odd sock. Beckett's brows crinkle together and she pulls out a fresh white board and starts rebuilding the case, pinning photos of suspects and victims, and writing descriptions and timelines underneath.

She hears a staged cough behind her and turns her body to face the sound, straightening when she spots the perpetrator.

"Captain," she says, "Hi."

He gives her an admonishing look. "What are you doing here on your day off?"

She gestures her hand to the board. "Old case. It's been bugging me."

He steps closer, his eye glancing at her with question. "Allison Tisdale? If I remember correctly, we caught the suspect."

Beckett sets her marker down. "But it was too easy. He had all the evidence on him."

Captain crosses his arms, unimpressed. "Usually when we find a guy standing over a body with a gun, he's usually the guy who did it."

"But why leave all the previous scenes immaculate, leave a partial print on the last victim, and then be stupid enough to have all the evidence in your home? It doesn't fit together."

His mouth turns down as he lifts his eyebrows. "You're serious."

"This was done by someone who was methodical. Not mentally unstable," Beckett says confidently.

"Do you want to reopen?" he asks.

Beckett scans the board. "Catching him was too easy. Like someone set him up. I think we should take a look into it."

"I'll make a call to the DA," he says.

"Really?"

"On one condition," he says, holding up a finger.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go home. Enjoy your day off, and come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

"Captain—"

"Go home, Detective," he insists and she nods, knowing not to push further. He gives her a curt nod and returns to his office. She turns back to her desk, picking up her coffee for a sip. She glances at the murder board to survey it one last time and almost spits out her drink when she spots Castle inspecting the board carefully. She sets her coffee down and swipes her phone from her desk before she approaches him.

"Hey," she says, speaking into her phone and looking at him.

"It says here your killer was a patient of Tisdale's—someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder."

He's making a point not to look at her, so she follows his cue and addresses the case.

"He was her patient. And he fixated on the objects of his obsession, and in this case, it was your books. The murders he committed were—"

"Exactly like the ones in my book."

She nods and lets him read the arrest report and autopsy finds.

"The rose petals? They're supposed to be Grandiflora, not Hybrid Teas. And the dress, here"—he points at the photo of Kendra Pitney floating face down in a pool—"It's the wrong color. Hers is yellow, and the one in my book is blue." Castle finally looks at her and asks, "Wouldn't someone with OCD get those kinds of details right?"

Beckett tilts her head affirmatively and taps the board. "There's another thing that doesn't make sense. He starts out with a murder of convenience, escalates to a murder of passion, and then goes back to one of convenience?"

"I thought you caught the guy, this Kyle Cabot," Castle says, gesturing to the perp's photo.

"I'm not so sure anymore," she says, crossing her arms.

He absorbs her assessment and refocuses his attention to the board as if it'll reveal the missing link.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she says quietly, "I shouldn't have lashed out you."

He pauses in his perusing and turns to her. "I get it," he says, shrugging his shoulders. And she can tell he's sincere. It's not condescending or snippy. It's not like Will who would tell her she needed to move on from her mom's case and let it go.

"I don't let people in easily."

"I know, Kate," he says with a small lift of his lips. "But it doesn't mean you have to shut them out completely.

"Castle, I…" she starts, but flinches when her phone vibrates in her hand, her eyes widening when she reads the Caller ID.

"Who is it?"

"Your mother."

"What?"

"It's Martha," she says loudly and she notices a couple people throw her looks from across the room.

"Answer it!" Castle urges, and she fumbles to flip it open.

"Hello?" she says breathlessly. The other end is silent.

"Bring it closer so I can hear," he says, and she holds the speaker end of the phone up to both of their ears.

"Martha?" Beckett prompts.

Still silence.

"Mom?" Castle asks, forgetting she can't hear him.

They give each other a worried glance.

"Why did you tell me you could see my son?" Martha asks finally, her voice low and brittle.

Beckett glimpses at Castle.

"Because—"

"No, stop. I don't think I actually want to hear it," Martha interrupts forcefully.

Beckett gathers this call took a lot of effort for her to make.

"Martha, I didn't mean to frighten you last week."

"I don't know why I called," Martha sighs.

"Please don't hang up," Beckett urges.

She can sense Martha's hesitation, but the older woman stays on the line.

"I don't know what to do, Detective. My son is going to be gone in a couple days and I don't know what to do."

"I know.

"You know?

"Your son, he was at the hospital, and he told me—"

"No." Martha sounds cracked open and raw. "He heard all that?" she asks, tears trembling in her voice.

"Tell her I know it's not her fault," Castle presses.

"He says it's not your fault, Martha."

"He's with you now?"

"Yes."

She can hear Martha stifling a sob.

"I'm sorry, Katherine. For all those months ago."

"You've already apologized."

"Meredith took Alexis from me once Richard was moved to long-term care—she took my sweet girl, and it was like I lost both of them. I couldn't face it."

"I know what it's like pushing people away, and I don't blame you for doing the same."

Martha is quiet, and Beckett lets her recover.

"Alexis won't stop talking about him," Martha says, a hint of a smile in her voice. "She keeps going on and on about a story he told her. About a little princess who rescues her dad. She's finally been able to sleep for the first time in months without waking up in the middle of the night."

"That's wonderful."

"I don't know what to believe. But if my son is really there with you, and you can talk to him, can you tell him that...that I love him and I wish I could do more."

Beckett meets Castle's eyes. They're glistening with tears and he looks choked up, unable to speak.

"He knows," Beckett says softly, "He loves you, too."

"Thank you, Detective," Martha murmurs.

The line goes dead, and Beckett closes the phone, wanting to run her hand against Castle's cheek. "Hey, it's ok," she whispers. "We'll figure it out."

Castle shakes his head and walks away from her. She isn't going to let him leave again, so she quickly grabs her things and follows him.

She shouts at him when they reach the street.

"Castle, wait up!"

"Forget it, Kate," he says, but he waits for her to catch up to him.

"This can't be it," she says.

"Kate," he sighs.

"We're going to get you back. I can go to Meredith, and I can make sure she extends your plan, or I can have the Captain make a call and pull some favors—"

"I'm not going to have you risk everything for me."

"There has to be something, or someone I can talk to," she says urgently.

"Kate, stop. They'll put you in a straight jacket. There's no way anyone is going to believe I'm still here."

"Martha's getting there and Alexis! What about her? She can see you, too."

"Yes, let's put my fate in the hands of my four-year-old kid who has seven other imaginary friends."

Beckett pauses, a sudden thought brightening in her head.

"There is someone else who can help," she says, her lips turning up.

"Who?

* * *

Beckett strides ahead of Castle, urging him along. He has to float by her to keep up.

"Did you say she's a medium?"

"Something like that—I don't know how legitimate this woman is, but she doesn't seem like a total hack."

"What a glowing review."

"It's better than nothing!"

"You say she owns a shop of some sort?"

"A metaphysical and—yes, there it is!" she shouts excitedly, pointing at the small store with vintage writing. The place Madison showed her after the Wolfe case.

The bell rings as she opens the door, announcing her arrival. She peers around the dimly lit room, dust-motes littering the air.

"Ah, Detective Beckett. You've returned. And not alone, I sense," Penny says, appearing from the back of the store. Beckett's reminded of Ms. Frizzle from the Magic School Bus when she spots the auburn, her hair gathered at the top of her head in a curly mess, and huge, moon earrings hanging from her lobes.

Castle's eyebrows skyrocket into his forehead. "She certainly looks the part...hold on, did she say she could sense me?"

"The spirit is with you, isn't it?"

"Woah, she's good," Castle says, "I like her."

"Yes, the spirit's here," Beckett says, "He's alive but he's in a coma. And his family is going to take him off life support."

"I also sense that the communication has worked out well. You're socializing now, aren't you?" Penny says matter-of-factly.

Beckett casts her eyes down, her cheeks coloring. "We've acclimated to the situation."

"I can tell. In fact, I can sense pretty intense feelings he has for you," Penny says, propping a hand under her chin, a knowing smile blooming at her lips.

"Is that so?" Beckett says, biting back a silly, dopey grin and glancing at Castle shyly.

"C'mon! That's totally unfair," Castle protests.

"Now I see a major red aura. It seems somebody's embarrassed," Penny says.

"I take it back—I don't like her at all," Castle says, a bright red blush creeping up his neck. "Can we focus here a little?" he asks Beckett with imploring eyes. "Ask her if there's a spell."

"Is there a spell or a chant?"

"Or electric shock!" Castle adds.

"Anything—"

"To get my spirit," Castle starts.

"Back into his body," Beckett finishes.

Penny blows some dust off a book and wipes it with her sleeve. "You're asking the wrong question."

"Why is that wrong?"

"Detective, I have a gift. I didn't ask for it, but I possess it. And I can sense these things—spirits and otherworldly beings, understand?"

"Are you saying I have a gift?"

Penny tilts her head back into a laugh. "Oh, dear, no. You definitely don't have a gift. You're a civilian."

Beckett bristles and exhales a frustrated sigh, "But if I don't have it, then how is it that I can see him and talk to him when no one else can?"

"Exactly," Penny says serenely.

"Exactly?"

"That's the right question."

* * *

"That was a load of hooey," Castle says as Beckett steps out of the store. She cranes her neck to look at the sky and squints at the sun.

"I don't know, Castle. She might be onto something."

"You can't be serious!"

Beckett slides her hands into her pockets, swiveling her head between both sides of the street before crossing to a little park and settling down onto a swing. She feels like she's on the brink of something, but she's not sure what it is.

"I feel like the answer is right in front of us," Beckett says and pushes her feet into the ground. Her swing creaks as it sways a little. Castle sits in the swing next to her.

"I'd like to make a note I asked this question the other day."

"How can you solve a problem you don't know how to solve in the first place?"

"You start at the beginning."

"Which is?"

"The night of my crash."

"The night of your crash," she repeats, the wheels in her head turning.

"You were going to bring me in for questioning."

"Yes, and I was the one who stayed with your family."

"And then you ended up in my apartment. How did that happen, anyhow?"

"Coincidence."

"I thought cops didn't believe in coincidences."

"So this was an elaborate orchestration of the universe. Is that what you're saying?

"You can't discount fate," Castle says meaningfully.

And finally, it snaps together in her thoughts—the answer. The night of the crash. _Of course._ The case.

"Castle, the case!"

"What?"

"I think you're right."

"About what?"

She reaches over and bends her hand around his swing's chain, making contact with his own hand. Her heart flutters when their hands illuminate and she can feel him briefly.

He gives her a quizzical look.

"I think we were supposed to solve the Tisdale case together."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I'm overwhelmed by the amount of follows and reviews—thank you all for your wonderful words and support.

* * *

Beckett wakes up early the next day, showering quickly and pulling on her work outfit she planned the night before.

"Somebody's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning," Castle says with a bemused smile as he watches her get ready.

"We finally have something to work with, Castle," she says and he follows her into the kitchen where she starts the coffee maker.

"You think that if we solve this case, I'll magically rejoin with my body?" he asks.

Beckett pauses. "I think it's a possibility," she says pointedly, pouring her coffee into a travel mug and she leans against the counter, quirking her lips. He looks at her for a long moment, and she holds his gaze, not backing down.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

She takes a sip from her mug. "Maybe because it's fate," she says, smiling.

"I'm serious, Kate," he says, his eyes full of something that makes her pulse quicken.

"Because I don't want you to die," she says, her lips turning down, "Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah, uh, I guess what I mean to say is…" he puffs out a frustrated laugh, "I'm glad the universe chose you to see me."

Beckett moves towards him then, her heart picking up. "Rick," she says, her voice falling at the end, his expression melancholy.

"I just wish—" he says, his voice breaking as he finds her eyes, "I wish we had more time."

"That's what I'm trying to do," she says, her hand reaching for his, "Make more time."

He glances down at their hands, shining like a ball of light. "Kate, I think I'm—" and she knows what he's going to say, the look in his eye soft and warm.

"Castle, don't," she begs.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because it sounds like you're saying goodbye," she says, her eyes searching his pleadingly.

"You have to consider it might not work out," he says in a whisper, bending his face towards her, as if to lay his forehead against hers. He's pushing her, making her see past her denial, but she doesn't want to embrace the idea of his death. She won't allow it.

"If I do that, then I won't be able to think straight enough to save you, Castle," she says fiercely.

"Kate," he says tenderly, his voice filling with emotion, and she knows he wants to break her rule, to say the unsaid things, so she breaks away from him, grabbing her coat from the front hall closet and opens the door to leave.

"I'm going to make more time. I promise," she says.

* * *

They don't talk when they enter the bullpen, their conversation still weighing heavily between them. Beckett sets her empty travel mug on her desk and glances at the murder board except—

"Where's my murder board?"

"Hmm?" Castle asks, tearing himself from his thoughts.

"Somebody stole my murder board."

"Isn't it right over there?" Castle says, pointing to the conference room.

"Why the hell is it over there?" she mutters under her breath as she makes a beeline for it. She bursts through the door and stops short when she notices the other people in the room.

"What are you guys doing here so early?" she asks, flicking her gaze between Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie.

"Looks like an intervention," Castle says with a chuckle. She shoots him a glare and he sobers.

"The boys called me up here because they're concerned about you and this case," Lanie says carefully and gestures to the board.

"And you thought you would ambush me and what? Talk me out of it?"

"No," Lanie says tightly, "We—"

"We want to know why you're reopening it and didn't tell us," Esposito says.

"You didn't exactly give me a chance," Beckett says with a huff, "I came to the precinct yesterday and saw too many discrepancies. The Captain happened to run into me and gave me the okay."

"You got this approved by the Captain?" Ryan asks, piping in.

"Yes," Beckett says, exasperated, "Any other questions?" she asks sarcastically. The three of them share a look and her stomach drops.

"This isn't just about the case, is it?" she asks.

"It _is_ an intervention!" Castle shouts out, elatedly.

"You've been off your game these past weeks," Esposito says.

"Distracted," Ryan adds.

"And whispering to someone who isn't there," Lanie says, concern washing over her face.

"Did you guys rehearse this?" she asks, incredulous.

"You said you would tell me what's going on with you," Esposito says seriously, "Now's your chance."

"You're not serious," Beckett scoffs.

"I think they noticed you've been talking to a ghost," Castle says and she wants to smack him in the shoulder, but hitting her hand through the air wouldn't exactly help her case right now.

"We just want to support whatever you're going through," Ryan says sincerely.

"I told them about you coming to me a couple weeks ago. About your…" Lanie looks down at hands, "Your hallucinations."

"Et tu, Lanie?" Beckett says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wish I had popcorn right now," Castle says, rubbing his hands together with delight. Beckett pinches the bridge of her nose, taking an enormous effort not to look at him.

"Lanie just wanted to give us all the facts," Esposito says.

"What do you really want from me, Javi?" Beckett asks.

"The truth."

"You want the truth?" Beckett asks, raising her voice and they all flinch.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Castle crows gleefully.

"Will you shut _up_?" she yells at him and he recoils, "You're not exactly helping me out here, Castle." She takes a breath and turns back to the table, and _shit_ —they were all looking at like she was crazy.

"Castle?" Ryan squeaks.

Beckett sighs and gives Castle an imploring glance, mouthing 'sorry' to him. She didn't mean to take her frustration with this _ridiculous_ intervention out on him.

"So what Lanie was saying was true?" Esposito asks, "You're hallucinating Richard Castle?"

Beckett stays silent for a moment. "Not quite," she says finally and they gaze at her curiously. She thinks of coming up with an elaborate lie, something about being stressed out and reading his books as a coping mechanism. But she doesn't want to keep hiding it from them anymore. Even if telling them might have negative consequences.

"I'm seeing his ghost," she says.

"His what now?" Lanie asks.

It's as if she's broken a seal of silence and everything pours from her, unbidden. "I'm seeing Richard Castle's ghost, spirit, or whatever you want to call it. He started appearing in the loft a while back. We did some research—"

"The wife!" Ryan says excitedly, "Meredith Harper."

She lifts her lips into a small smile for him. "Yes, I brought in the wife and she told me he's in a coma. He survived the crash from a year ago, and he's at a facility in Flushing."

"He's alive?" Esposito asks skeptically.

"But they're pulling the plug on him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ryan cries out.

"You're joking, right?" Esposito says, his face furrowing in disdain.

"How can you see his ghost if he's technically still alive?" Lanie asks.

"That's actually a good question," Castle comments.

"Not. Helping." She grates out at him and he holds up his hands in surrender.

"Are you 'talking' to him?" Esposito asks, almost mocking now and she grinds her teeth together.

"I know it seems insane. But it's real," she defends sincerely.

"What do you need us to do, Beckett?" Ryan asks and she gives him a grateful look.

"You believe this?" Esposito asks.

"It explains the strange behavior," Ryan shrugs, "And I saw a ghost once."

Esposito scoffs, "I can't even look at you right now."

"I don't really care if you believe me or not, Javi. But it's the truth and I hope you trust me enough to work with me," Beckett says, "I need to solve this case to get him back to his body," she says.

"Trust you?" he spits out. "You need a psych eval, Beckett, " he says, getting up from his chair. He yanks the door open and slams it behind him.

"I should go talk to him," Lanie says quietly, standing up from the table.

"I'm not crazy, Lane," Beckett beseeches, and Lanie pauses, giving her a long look.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asks, hurt written in her eyes.

"Can't you see why I didn't?" Beckett implores. Lanie sighs, and chews at her lip, tucking a hair behind her ear—contemplating.

"Do you have any sort of proof?"

Beckett glances at Castle and he seems to brighten with an idea. Beckett lifts her brows in question. "Give me a sec," he says and walks behind Lanie.

"What are you doing, Castle?" she asks out loud and Lanie glances around the room nervously.

"Ask her to think of a number between one and five," he instructs. She takes a breath but follows his lead, trusting him.

"Lanie, can you think of a number between one and five?"

"What?"

"Could you just do it, please?" Beckett says.

"Ok?"

"Do you have it?" Beckett asks. Lanie nods.

"Now tell her to show me that number with her hand behind her back," Castle says.

Beckett's eyes alight with understanding. "Castle's behind you. Can you put a hand behind your back and show the number you're thinking of with your fingers? Make sure Ryan and I can't see what you're doing," she says and Lanie reluctantly puts a hand behind her back, moving into a corner while Castle repositions himself.

"She's showing three fingers!" Castle shouts suddenly.

"Your number is three," Beckett says. Lanie looks unimpressed. "That was a lucky guess," she says.

"And now she's showing two," Castle relays.

"Now you have two," Beckett repeats, and Lanie glances at Ryan who shrugs and holds up his hands as if to say he's not involved and doesn't know anything.

"She just did one and then four and three again!" Castle yells out. Beckett reels off the information, and Lanie's eyes widen slowly.

"Hey, now she's flipping me off!" Castle exclaims.

"Are you flipping him off?" Beckett asks, disbelief coloring her tone.

"OK, woah, that is spooky, girl," Lanie says, bringing her hand back to the front.

"Do you believe me now?" Beckett asks tentatively. Lanie looks at Ryan again and twists her hands together, a small and hesitant laugh falling from her lips.

"I want to believe you," she says finally, staring down at her feet. Beckett lets out a breath, her heart sinking into her stomach. "Let me go to talk to, Javier, OK?" Lanie asks softly, giving her an encouraging smile.

"Sure," Beckett mumbles and watches forlornly as her friend leaves the room, silently shutting the door behind her.

"Guess it's just us," Ryan says, "Where do you want to start?"

"I like that guy," Castle says and Beckett lifts her lips slightly, her energy drained—Lanie and Esposito's denial a fresh wound.

"I really appreciate you staying, Ryan," she says, shifting her gaze to him. "Castle appreciates it, too," she adds and Ryan grins. She turns back to the murderboard and picks up a pen, determined to concentrate on this case. They were running out of time.

"I think Allison Tisdale is the key to this case. I've been thinking about this and I think the other murders were done to distract us from her. She's the real target," Beckett says. "Can you take a look at her financials, Ryan? And find me her next of kin?"

He gives her a curt nod and makes his way out of the room. He pauses by her and attempts to give her a comforting pat on the shoulder but they're not used to it...the open affection and admiration for each other as working partners. They usually toss barbs and use gallows humors to talk meaningfully to each other.

"Thanks, Kev," she says, her eyes suddenly blinking back tears. He flashes her a small smile and heads out, walking towards his desk.

"That went well," Castle says and she snorts.

"I need a coffee."

* * *

Castle hovers over her shoulder as she brews a cup of coffee in the breakroom.

"You should add some milk and sugar," he says.

"I'm fine."

"Well, if the rust on that machine is any indication of the flavor of that coffee, I can guarantee it will taste better."

"I know how to make coffee, Castle."

"I like putting nutmeg in mine, you should try it," he says and she sighs, turning to face him as the coffee maker shudders and gasps.

"I know what you're doing," she says quietly.

"I'm not doing anything," he says innocently and she gives him a knowing look.

"You're trying to take my mind off the fact my friends think I'm clinically insane."

"Well, not _all_ of them," he says.

"I don't want to talk about it, ok?" she says a little too forcefully and glimpses his face fall.

"Castle, I didn't mean—"

The door to the break room swings open and she stops when she sees Esposito. He doesn't look at her, instead grabbing an apple from the fruit basket on the counter. She opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

"We got a pop on financials," he says stiffly.

"We?" Beckett asks tentatively, glancing at Castle. Esposito looks at her, and studies her for a moment as if he's trying to figure her out.

"I still have a job to do," he says.

"Thanks, Espo," she says, offering him a strained smile.

"But it doesn't mean I believe you. Or whatever I hear from Lanie, OK?"

"OK," she says and he softens, giving her a conciliatory nod.

"Allison's dad died a little while back. Cancer. And Allison's brother inherited everything," he says, switching into case mode.

"Everything? What about Allison?"

"I called the family lawyer. He says the father changed it after she was killed," Esposito says. Ryan walks in, plopping a file next to the coffee maker.

"So I looked into the brother. And it seems his company was going under about this time last year, but he came into some money when his father passed away and was able to pay off his debts," Ryan reels off.

Beckett fingers the file open, and her eyes travel over the new information, her mind piecing everything together. The brother must've known he stood to gain more with Allison gone. She looks up, snapping her gaze to Esposito and Ryan.

"I think we just found our new suspect."

* * *

Castle is silent on the drive over to Harrison Tisdale's office. She misses the sound of his incessant chatter.

"What are you thinking?"

"Hmm?" Castle hums.

"You're too quiet," she says.

"Do you think this Harrison is our guy?" he asks.

"I can't be sure until I question him, but I have a feeling he's our guy."

"How come you didn't question him before?"

"Because we never had a reason before. All the evidence pointed to Cabot."

Castle falls silent again.

"That's not what you wanted to say, is it?" she says.

"How did you…?" he stammers.

"Detective, remember?"

"You don't want to talk about it."

"Is this about this morning?"

He pauses, taking a breath and looks out the window. "You said we'd have more time. And I wanted so badly for it to be true, but I didn't really think..." he glances at her, "But somehow we have a lead and a suspect, and it makes me believe that maybe there's hope. That we'll get more time."

Her chest rises, his words settling into her heart—his hope.

"Castle," she says, her voice breaking over his name.

"I was thinking about what it would mean for us."

"Us?" she asks breathlessly.

"Will you have dinner with me?"

"What?" she says, her spine tingling and her pulse racing.

"Will you have—"

"Yes," she says, interrupting him, her thoughts catching up with her mouth. She swallows, her heart in her throat and finds his eyes. They're bluer than usual and it sends a thrill through her. He smiles crookedly, his whole face lighting up.

"It's a date," he says.

She bites down on the grin blooming on her lips and pulls up to the warehouse where Harrison Tisdale works. A laborer points them to an office, and Beckett introduces herself to the middle-aged man with greasy hair. Castle wrinkles his nose and watches as Beckett interrogate him.

Tisdale acts cool and aloof, smoothly providing her with a passport and flight dates—his alibi. Beckett glances at the evidence and thanks him, leaving quickly as Castle trails mournfully behind her.

"I was sure it was him," Castle says. Beckett leans against the cruiser, a smug smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, don't take it so hard."

"Why not?"

"Castle, he's lying! I mean, I get him knowing the date of his sister's murder, but the other two victims? From a year ago?"

"You're serious," Castle says, his eyes flickering with hope.

"He didn't pause. He didn't ask for dates. He didn't even check his calendar, but he was ready with an alibi. In my experience, innocent people do not prepare alibis," she says excitedly. They found their killer. They actually found him. She tamps down a laugh, a delirious and gleeful thing building in her chest.

"So we are right?"

She opens the car door and slips into the driver's seat once again, already starting the ignition.

"We just need to find out how he fabricated his alibi. I'm going to call the precinct and tell them to put a detail on him in case our little meeting spooked him," she says, looking over at him. He has a dazed expression on his face and her heart flutters.

He might survive.

* * *

"And?"

Beckett waits with bated breath as Ryan sets the phone down.

"His credit card company confirms he paid for three roundtrip tickets. Dates coincide with the three murders," Ryan says.

"So, according to his credit card, Tisdale was out of the country," Esposito says.

"Wait, does this mean, we're not right?" Castle asks.

"It means the passports were forged," Beckett says.

"I'm gonna call passport control and check the logs," Esposito announces, moving towards his desk.

Castle sits in a chair next to her desk, his brow creased in thought. He snaps his eyes to hers, an idea lighting his irises.

"That's not how he would've done it," he says slowly, the idea building.

"Espo, wait!" she shouts.

"Second passport," Castle says.

"How would he get one of those?" she asks. Esposito glances at Ryan, shaking his head imperceptibly.

"With his money, he could've easily found one on the black market," Castle says.

"So he leaves the country on his own. Comes back with the other passport, commits murder, flies out, and then comes back in on his own," Beckett says, turning to face the murder board, her eyes scanning the dates.

"Perfect alibi. Perfect murder," Castle says in awe.

"But almost impossible to prove," Beckett says, deflating.

"Unless you find the second passport," Castle says, sidling up next to her.

"Do you know what's going on right now?" Ryan whispers loudly to Esposito. The latino covers his face with one of his hands, sighing deeply.

Beckett faces the boys and flashes them a wane grin.

"Sorry, boys."

"I'm guessing we're not alone," Esposito says with contempt.

"Castle thinks Tisdale used a second passport he bought off the black market," she explains.

"You're taking advice from him now?" Esposito says, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead.

"I value his input," Beckett says tightly.

"Do you even hear yourself, right now?" Esposito scoffs.

"I think Castle has a point," Ryan says, putting a calming hand on Esposito's chest. She nods at Ryan, a silent thank you.

"Keep eyes on Tisdale. If he moves, I want to know," she says, walking towards the elevator. "I have a call to make," she says.

"To who?" Esposito shouts across the bullpen.

"To whom," Castle says.

Beckett smirks, pulling out her cell. "Judge Markway, please."

"Judge Markway? Tell him I say hello," Castle pipes in and Beckett shakes her head, a laugh trickling up her throat.

* * *

Once Markway signs off on Tisdale's arrest warrant, Beckett lets herself breathe a little. Castle performs a jig and she grins.

Her cell vibrates and she presses it to her ear.

"Beckett."

"Tisdale's on the move," Ryan says, "He's on his way home."

"Meet you there," she says curtly. Castle looks at her expectantly.

"Tisdale's heading home."

"Probably to get rid of the evidence," Castle says, his eyes widening.

Beckett nods and lengthens her stride, rushing to her cruiser and fumbling with her buckle. They were going to lose him. Tisdale. They were going to lose Tisdale.

"We're going to get him, Kate," Castle says and she gazes at him for a moment too long, her eyes saying everything. She closes her eyes, inhaling a breath. Everything was going to be OK. With a careful and swift hand, she clicks her buckle securely into place and flicks on the siren.

"Let's do this," she says resolutely and stamps her heel onto the gas pedal, peeling out of the city hall parking lot.

"That was so hot," Castle says and she can feel his eyes burning a hole in her.

"Shut up," she says, a blush creeping up her neck.

* * *

Her cruiser screeches to the curb in front of Tisdale's apartment building just as Ryan and Esposito arrive with backup.

Beckett grabs her vest from the trunk and quickly straps it on, watching Esposito and Ryan do the same in her peripheral vision. Esposito's face was blank and serious—full cop mode.

"Thanks for coming," she says, nodding at him. He gives her a press-lipped smile and her chest loosens a little. They were OK.

"Tisdale's rifling through his desk drawers," Castle says, popping up beside her.

"What?" she asks, turning towards him, panic ripping through her.

"I just paid him a little visit," Castle says.

"Guys, we need to go. Now!" she shouts.

They run up the stairs, the elevator too slow. Tisdale's place is on the third floor. Castle appears and disappears, updating her on Tisdale's position as she climbs higher. Esposito matches her pace.

"He's heading down the fire escape!" Castle cries out the next time he reappears, just as she kicks down Tisdale's door.

"Espo, head to the alley. Tisdale's going down the fire escape," she barks out as she wrests the window open and climbs out, her right hand firmly gripping her gun.

"Stop! Police! Don't move!" she yells when she spots Tisdale dropping from the last rung of the fire escape's ladder. Tisdale cranes his neck up at her and clumsily drops the trash bag of evidence. The bag hits the ground, bursting open and shreds of paper scatter everywhere. Tisdale spends a moment trying to gather the scraps but abandons the task when he sees her coming closer.

"Freeze!" Esposito shouts, sprinting around the corner just as her feet hit the pavement.

Tisdale ignores the command, fleeing towards the back of the alley and disappearing behind a large truck. She and Esposito run around the truck and find Tisdale on the other side pointing a gun at both of them.

"Hold it right there, or I'll shoot!" Tisdale shouts, his arm shaking and sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Steady," Beckett says calmly as she and Esposito take a step closer.

Tisdale pulls his finger on the trigger, a shot blasting from his gun. She feels the heat of the bullet as it barely misses her cheek and ricochets off the wall behind them.

"I said stop—" Tisdale shouts but suddenly Castle materializes in front of her and she watches as he smacks into Tisdale, his spirit vanishing into Tisdale's body.

"Castle!"

Tisdale twitches.

Esposito edges a step closer and Tisdale grunts, more sweat beading down his face. His finger hovers over the trigger, straining to reach it, but it's like he can't control himself...like somebody's controlling him from the inside.

 _Castle._

She lowers her gun and stares in wonderment as Tisdale loses an internal battle, his gun clattering to the ground. His arms flail around a bit before his whole body stills and then Tisdale is walking over to her and Esposito, offering his wrists to them.

"I'm not doing this," Tisdale says worriedly and Esposito looks at her, stunned. She holsters her gun.

"Can you turn him around, Castle?" she asks, "With his hands behind his back?"

Tisdale's body turns obediently, and she grabs the cuffs from her belt, cinching them around his wrists tightly.

"Who the hell is Castle and what's he doing to me?" Tisdale asks.

"Is your Ghost Boy doing this?" Esposito asks. Beckett nods slightly, a small smile curving at her mouth.

"Ghost!" Tisdale yelps, "What kind of detectives are you?"

Tisdale trips on a raised crack in the asphalt, and Castle falls out of him, landing inelegantly on his feet. He shudders and begins swiping at his sleeves as if to rid himself of Tisdale. She exhales, relief spreading from her chest to her fingertips.

"This can't be legal," Tisdale mutters.

"You have the right to remain silent," she says, giving him a push as she guides him out of the alley, "So shut the hell up."

Castle grins at her and her skin tingles.

"That is so going in the book."

* * *

They take Tisdale back to the precinct, and she interrogates him further. He confesses to everything and buries his head in his hands.

Beckett shakes her head as Ryan takes him to booking.

"The things people'll do for money," she tsks.

"I don't think it was all about the money," Castle says, "I think it was more personal. Someone doesn't kill their family in cold blood unless they're a sociopath. No, I think this was about Allison and how she was better than him. How his father saw him as a failure and favored Allison over him."

"What makes you say that?"

"Writer's intuition," he says smoothly and Beckett arches a brow, disbelieving.

"I got a peek into what he was thinking when I inhabited his body," he says morosely and the corners of her mouth turn up in amusement.

"That's better," she says.

"Yo, your Ghost Boy still here?" Esposito asks, walking up to her.

"Yeah, why?"

"I thought he was supposed to return to his body or something," Esposito says.

"It's not an exact science," she says, casting Castle a worried glance. What were they supposed to do next? She half-hoped he would magically rejoin his body, but—

"Well, I'm sorry about earlier, about not taking you seriously, you know?" he says and she shakes herself from her down spiral.

"It's good, Javi," she says, "I probably wouldn't have believed you if you said the same."

"I still think you should get a psych eval," he says, mirth sparkling in his eyes.

"Watch it," she says with a grin, pushing against his chest and he stumbles, a laugh falling from his mouth.

"Tell your boy that was quite a takedown, yeah?" Esposito says, walking away from them and she nods as Castle puffs out his chest. His eyes travel to the murderboard still standing in the middle of the bullpen.

"What happens to Kyle Cabot?" he asks.

Beckett reaches for his photo. "The DA said he'd been shuffled around psych wards after pleading insanity."

"Is he going to be released?"

Beckett places Cabot's picture in the box for closed cases. "He still suffers from a mental disorder, but he should be allowed to leave now after an evaluation by his physician. I think he has a sister willing to help him segue back into a normal routine."

"That's good," Castle says as he watches her disassemble the rest of the board. She wipes the timeline and names away when she's finished and glances at her watch.

"It's after six," she says, looking at him in alarm. "Visiting hours at the hospital are over."

"It doesn't matter," he says, sighing, "I think if I was supposed to return to my body, I would've done so by now."

"How can you say that?"

"We solved the case and nothing happened."

"How are we supposed to know that for sure? What if you're able to merge back with your body now?" she says fervently, "What about—"

"Because I already tried!" he shouts.

"What?" she says, stilling.

"I went when you were interrogating Tisdale. It's easy to travel when you're a ghost," he says with a weak smile, "And I tried to make it stick. But it didn't work, Kate." He wipes a hand over his face. "I couldn't make it work."

She wants to hold him, let him know she's going to figure it out, but she's spinning. It didn't work. What the hell were they supposed to do? He was going to—

"Let's go home," she says, interrupting her own chain of thought. She couldn't think about failure right now.

"Home," he agrees.

* * *

They're quiet when they walk through the door, Beckett dropping her things more forcefully than needed.

"Kate," Castle admonishes softly.

She's silent, kicking off her heels angrily and they clunk to the ground loudly. She walks into the office, tugging her hair loose and huffs when the hair elastic gets stuck, creating a snarl of knots. She yanks at it, ignoring the pain that pulls at her scalp but it doesn't come loose, instead tangling her hair more.

"Shit!" she yells out, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.

"Hey," Castle says, trying to reach out to her and run a hand through her hair, but his fingers pass through. "It's OK," he murmurs.

She takes a step away from him, shaking her head.

"We still have time," he says.

"But I want more," she says, her voice breaking. His mouth turns up but there's a sad look in his eye. Like he's accepted what's going to happen.

"You know why I think you're extraordinary?" he asks and she swipes at the unruly tears trailing down her cheek. "Because you don't give up," he says, "You don't back down."

She glances down at her hands.

"But you have to let go," he says.

"I can't lose you, Castle."

"Kate—"

She looks at him, her eyes burning. Tired of his careful coddling and words laced with goodbye. "I lost my mother because someone took her from me. And I'm not going to let someone do the same to you. Not if I can stop it," she says fiercely, walking into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She takes a brush from the bathroom and wrenches it through her knotted hair, finally extracting the elastic and loosening the tangled strands. Castle appears in the mirror behind her.

"I've never had someone fight for me before," he says and she sets her brush down, inhaling slowly and turning to face him.

"People only ever wanted me for my money," he says and her heart cracks. "I married Meredith because it was something I had to do. Because I wanted Alexis to grow up with a family."

"You're a good father."

"But Meredith was never my family. Not since the morning I found her in bed with her director," he rasps. His eyes glitter hard with tears and she wants to wipe them away. Wipe away his hurt.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"It's not your fault," he says, taking a step closer to her. "None of this is your fault," he soothes. He's being so goddamn brave, making her feel better when it should be her helping him.

"What do you want, Rick?" she asks.

"I don't want to fight or think about tomorrow. I just want to stay with you," he says.

* * *

She lays down on the bed at his request, facing him once he's laying across from her. They gaze at each other, their eyes mapping the geography of each other's faces.

"Are you nervous?" she asks.

"A little," he confesses.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says.

"How can you be nervous when I can't even touch you?" she asks.

"You make me nervous," he says quietly.

"Why?" she asks and she knows she's pushing, crossing unspoken boundaries.

"Because I think if you could ever really touch me...I might wake up from all of this," he says, his eyes a deep and unfathomable blue.

She holds up her hand, and he raises his own to meet hers, their hands lighting up when they touch. Adrenaline sparks down her arm, setting her heart off like a hummingbirds.

"I feel you more," he says.

"Me, too," she breathes.

He keeps his hand connected to hers and catches her gaze again. "I think I know what my unfinished business is."

"Is that what you're calling it now?"

"I'm a ghost, aren't I?" he counters and she laughs a little.

"Ok, what's your unfinished business?" she asks.

He laces his fingers through hers.

"You."

* * *

 **A/N:** Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

"Castle," she says, her voice catching on his name.

"I think it's always been you," he says softly.

Tears well up in her eyes and she quickly wipes at them because damn him for making her emotional. For saying sweet, heart-wrenching things that are an all too painful reminder that he's leaving.

"Hey," he says, moving his hand to thumb a finger across her cheek, but he passes through her. She tilts her head back and tries to stop the involuntary tears fighting to fall down her face.

"I'm sorry," she says with a huff, "It's just—" She gazes at him, at their linked hands, and slips her fingers from his. "I can't do this, Castle."

"Kate."

"I can't sit around just waiting for you to—" she closes her eyes, "I can't wait, doing nothing, when there's still time."

"Look at me," he calls out softly. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and opens her eyes, finding his blue pair right in front of her, searching her face.

"It's going to be alright."

"How can you say that?" she asks. She's done pretending everything's going to be fine. She rummages around the drawer in the nightstand, her mind turning. How can she make more time?

"It'll be fine."

What if they—no, how about—and...a thought slots into place, an idea, as her hand bumps into the hard edge of her cell phone. Of course.

"Castle, what time are they pulling the plug?"

"Noon, why?"

She dials and puts the phone up to her ear, her teeth digging into her lip.

"Because I'm going to save you," she says.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

She worries a strand of hair between her fingers as the phone rings. She throws her gaze to him, hope fluttering in her chest.

"I'm going to steal your body."

* * *

Kate checks her watch. It's only 8 PM. They should be awake. She paces as she texts and sends voicemails to her friends. Castle hovers around her, agitated.

"You'll go to jail, Kate," he says as she talks with Lanie. She covers a hand over the mouth of the receiver.

"I don't care," she says, her eyes darkening.

"I can't let you risk everything for me," he urges.

"It doesn't matter," she says.

"You can't do this, Kate," he says.

Beckett rubs a hand between her brows, massaging her temple.

"Lanie, I'm going to have to call you back," she says into the phone and snaps it shut with a sigh.

"Castle—"

"What if something goes wrong? What happens then? What about your job? What if—"

"I've got this—"

"I won't let you sacrifice your job, Kate," he says fiercely. She scrapes a hand through her hair. If he would just _listen_. "I know how much it means to you. And—" he says.

"You're going to die."

He quiets, his chest heaving and looks at her, his pupils dark and wide.

"And if you don't care about that, at least think about how that's going to affect the people that love you. You really want to put your mother through that? And what about Alexis?"

His mouth settles into a hard line.

"And what about you, Kate?"

"Can't you see I don't want anything to happen to you? I'm trying to make more time because we're...friends. We're partners," she says.

"Is that what we are?"

"I don't know what we are, Rick," she says, anger sparking in her chest. "All I know is you won't fight for yourself, and I...I don't want to watch you die."

Castle stares at her, his eyes a sea of stormy blue, turbulent and dangerous.

"I think you are the most remarkable and...frustrating person I have ever met," he says.

"And you're the most bull-headed idiot I've ever met," she throws back. She clenches her fists. "Castle, if you care about me at all, then you'll let me do this," she says, "You'll let me save you."

"If I care you about?" he asks, his voice raising and she flinches. "Jesus, Kate. I want more time with you more than anything," he huffs, a tear slipping down his cheek. "All I can think about is you," he says, his voice splintering.

Her breath hitches.

"Then why do you keep fighting me?"

"Because…" he looks at her, his eyes shattering . "Because I'm not ready to go back to my real life. To a traumatized daughter. An alcoholic mother," he says and his throat catches. "Because I did that. I did that to them. How can I face that?"

Oh. _Oh, no._ He's hurting inside, too.

"Castle," she breathes, "It's not your fault. None of that is your fault."

She walks up to him, and reaches her hand up to his cheek, as if cupping it and fastens her gaze with his.

"You will be able to face it. Because you're strong and kind and they love you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they're lost without you," she says.

She wipes at the tears escaping down her face.

"Kate," he exhales.

"I'm lost without you," she whispers, choking on tears. "Please let me do this."

His hands reach for her face, but they don't touch.

"Okay," he says.

"Okay?" Her heart stops.

"Being a ghost sucks."

Her mouth turns up into a smile. That sounds more like her Castle.

"Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd be lost without you, too."

* * *

Beckett paces in front of Lanie, Esposito, and Ryan, her hands wringing together.

"You said it was important. Why are we here, Beckett?" Esposito asks,

"Solving the case didn't work. Castle's still here," she says and the three of them look at each other.

"Are they still pulling the plug tomorrow?" Ryan asks.

"Yes, and we can't let that happen," she says, stopping in front of them.

"We?" Lanie asks.

"We're going to break him out," Beckett announces.

"What?" Ryan cries out.

"And I know it's a big thing to ask—"

"You're asking us to break the law, Beckett," Esposito says, his brow slanting down disapprovingly.

"I wouldn't ask unless I had another option," she pleads.

"We're the police," Esposito says.

"I know," she says quietly.

"Honey, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's the only one I have, Lane."

"What are you going to do with the body?" Lanie asks.

"Does that mean you'll help?" Beckett asks with a hopeful lilt.

Lanie sighs, resigned and gives Esposito a shrug. He shakes his head, crossing his arms.

"Why does saving this guy mean so much to you?" Esposito asks.

"He has a family. A daughter and mother who need him."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"You're risking an awful lot for this guy."

Castle looks at her and she avoids his gaze, her heart tripping and falling in her chest.

"This is not about me," she huffs, "Look, how many times do we get the opportunity to save a life?"

"Beckett—"

"And I'm not trying to guilt or force anyone into this. But I'm doing something with or without you guys. So who's in?"

They all share a look and then turn back to her. Her pulse beats rapidly.

"We'll do it," Ryan announces.

"Really?" Beckett asks, breathless.

"But you owe us big time," Esposito says.

"I mean big," he says.

"Huge," says Lanie.

"What's the plan?" Ryan asks.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Castle asks.

"I'm in this," Beckett says, tightening her grip on the steering wheel of the morgue van. They stayed up the rest of the night planning and now they're on their way to the facility. It's almost an hour before noon.

"What about her and the boys?" he asks, nodding at Lanie in the front seat. The boys volunteered to sit in the back while they made the drive.

"They know what they're getting themselves into," she says firmly.

"Are you talking to me, sweetie?" Lanie asks and Beckett glances at her friend.

"No, uh, Castle, sorry."

"How's he doing?" Lanie asks and Beckett bites the inside of her cheek.

"I just want them to know I realize how difficult this is, especially since I'm basically a stranger to them," he says, and she softens.

"He wants to thank you for doing this for him. He knows it might be strange putting yourself on the line for someone you don't know," she says.

"I always thought he had a real gift for the details of death," Lanie says and Castle smiles. Beckett rolls her eyes. "And I'm not doing this just for him. It's for his family. And for you, girl."

"Me?" Beckett splutters.

"I can see how much you care about him."

"Lanie!"

"What? Is it supposed to be some kind of secret?" Lanie asks.

"Yeah, is it supposed to be a secret, Beckett?" Castle asks, a silly grin spreading across his face and his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Will you shut up?" she says hotly and Lanie raises a brow.

"Not you, Lane," Beckett says with a sigh.

"Are you ready for this, honey?" Lanie asks softly.

Beckett stares ahead at the road determinedly.

"As long as we follow the plan, we'll be fine," she says confidently.

"Let's hope nobody asks to see a warrant," Lanie says, leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes.

"Or identification," Castle adds. "Actually, are we sure this plan is going to work?"

"Only one way to find out," Beckett says, turning the steering wheel and pumping her foot on the brake.

"We're here."

* * *

"Excuse me, Ma'am, do you have the room number for a Richard Castle? We need to put him in protective custody," Esposito says sternly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I can't let you see the patient."

"You don't understand, uh,—" Esposito peers at the nurse's name tag, "Sally Ann. But there's been a threat against his life. And me and my partner," he nods his head at Ryan, "We've been sent to guard the patient until further notice."

Sally Ann clutches at her chest dramatically. "My goodness!"

"That's our cue," Beckett says from outside, bringing her hand down from her earpiece and motions at Lanie. They push the gurney from the morgue van and enter through the sliding doors. They're both wearing her scrubs and doctor's coats. Nobody gives them a second glance.

"He might get killed," Ryan presses.

"But that's just it, you see. He's scheduled to be taken off life support in an hour," Sally Ann says.

Beckett gives Esposito and Ryan a thumbs up as she and Lanie pass the nurse's station. The sound of their arguing fades as the two of them round the corner and roll the gurney towards the elevator.

Beckett jogs ahead to press the button, glancing nervously at her watch. They were cutting it close.

The doors open and Beckett hurriedly grabs the end of the gurney and helps Lanie load it inside. Beckett closes her eyes in relief when the doors close quickly and the elevator begins to slowly rise.

"Do we have everything for the mobile transfer?"

"I triple-checked the supplies," Lanie says soothingly.

Beckett taps her foot impatiently. "I can't mess this up, Lanie."

"The coast is clear," Castle says, appearing next to them.

"No one's in your room?" she asks. "Where's your family?"

"Probably caught in the same traffic we were," Castle grumbles.

"Is Writer Boy, here?" Lanie asks.

"Writer Boy?" Castle scoffs.

"He says his room his clear."

The elevator dings when it arrives at the sixth floor.

She and Lanie move the gurney out and Beckett looks up and down the hall, making sure no one sees them before she opens the door to Castle's room.

They quickly roll the gurney in place next to his bed and then pause, assessing the mess of wires connected to his body.

"Oh, he's cute," Lanie says, smirking. Castle grins smugly.

"Lanie!"

"Right."

Her eyes travel over the tubes and wires, her head nodding as she thinks.

"You didn't mention what you're doing with my body once you get it out of here," Castle says.

"Lanie says we can store your body in the morgue van with enough machines and supplies to last until we find you another space. It'll give us more time to figure out how to get you back," she whispers under her breath.

"Okay," Lanie says out loud and Beckett listens expectantly. "Lift under his shoulders and I'll grab his legs. We need to move him before I reconnect everything."

"Got it," Beckett says, maneuvering herself and reaching under Castle's arms.

"That tickles!" Castle squeals and Beckett pauses.

"You feel that?" she asks.

Lanie shifts his legs onto the gurney.

"Just you," he says.

Lanie glances at Beckett.

"Hello?"

Beckett shakes her head, breaking from her thoughts. "I'm here, sorry." She takes a breath and picks Castle's torso up with a herculean effort. She stumbles a little, the weight of him tipping her over. Lanie comes to her rescue and, together, they situate the rest of his body onto the gurney. Then, Lanie begins to methodically rewire Castle's life support to their mobile equipment.

His heart monitor begins to beep erratically.

"What's wrong?" Beckett asks, panic squeezing her lungs.

"Nothing, nothing," Lanie assures, "It's just his breathing tube."

"What?"

"Just my breathing tube?" Castle squeaks.

Lanie reattaches his tube to the mobile ventilator with ease and takes a step back, holding her hands up.

"Done," she says.

Beckett unfreezes, a spike of adrenaline rushing through her veins, and reaches for the gurney's railing.

"Let's go," she says.

She walks backward, guiding the gurney.

"Beckett, watch out!" Lanie cries out.

But it's too late, and Beckett bowls into Dr. Davidson, just entering the room. He crashes to the ground. Beckett puts a hand over her mouth.

"I am so sorry," she gushes, reaching for his hand. He looks at her in confusion but accepts her hand and she helps him into a standing position.

"Who are you?" he asks and then looks behind her at the gurney. His eyes flick between Lanie and her. "What's going on here?"

Beckett clears her throat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. They had planned for this.

"We're transferring the patient," she says calmly.

"To where?"

"Protective custody. We're with WITSEC," she says.

"Witness protection? I haven't heard anything about this," he says, his mouth turning down.

"Mr. Castle is in danger," Lanie says.

"I understand," he says evenly, "But there's a protocol for these things. I'm going to make a call."

He dials and holds the phone to his ear. Beckett shares a worried glance with Lanie. This was not part of the plan.

"You look familiar. Weren't you here last week?" he asks.

"You have me confused with someone else," Beckett says, terror clawing at her chest. He knew.

"Hold on," he says slowly. He closes the phone, cutting off the call, understanding suddenly dawning on his face.

"You're not WITSEC."

"Lanie?" Beckett says.

"Yeah?"

"Time to go."

"Copy."

Beckett pushes the doctor out of the way and he stumbles into the hallway.

"Hey! You can't take him!" he shouts. He attempts to snag the gurney, finding a grip for a moment. They tug him back and forth.

"Castle, could you—?" she asks desperately.

"On it," he says before she can finish. He vanishes into the doctor and struggles with him until Dr. Davidson stops moving and then retracts his hand from the gurney. She and Lanie spring into action, pushing the gurney into an open elevator.

Castle rejoins them as soon as the doors close.

"That was too close," Beckett says, breathing heavily.

"What the hell just happened out there?" Lanie asks.

"Castle gave us the supernatural assist," Beckett says.

"Supernatural what now?"

Beckett waves her off. "Once we get off this elevator, we have to pass by the nurse's station again. The doctor is probably calling for security right now and we need to look normal, got it?"

Lanie nods her head, taking a breath.

"Got it," she says.

The elevator dings again, and the doors open.

"Katherine?"

Beckett's heart sinks at the sound of Martha's voice. The redhead's standing in front of the elevator with Alexis and Meredith.

"Is that—?" Martha asks, her eyes widening when she sees Castle's body on the gurney.

"Ricky," Meredith gasps.

Lanie looks at her for further instruction.

"Push," she orders and Lanie nods. The redheads step out of their way as they unload the gurney from the elevator.

"Where are you going with him?" Meredith asks. "I thought we were doing this upstairs."

"It's been canceled," Beckett says flatly.

"Canceled?"

An alarm starts ringing and a voice crackles over the intercom.

"We have a Code Yellow. All security guards perform lockdown procedure."

Beckett and Lanie slow down, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm assuming that's for us," Beckett says, deflating.

"Honey?"

"What?" Beckett snaps.

"We have a problem."

Lanie points at Castle's heart monitor which is beeping too fast.

"What's happening?"

Lanie looks at her solemnly as she nods at the ventilator.

"His breathing tube is gone. The doctor must've accidentally snagged it upstairs."

"Kate!"

 _Castle._

She whips her head to find him standing across from her, but something's wrong with him. His color his dissolving and she can see right through him.

"Stay with me, Castle," she cries out.

He reaches out to her and she places her hand in the air to meet his, but his hand fades away before touching hers. Fear constricts her heart as her eyes find his in panic. She glances at his body helplessly, the heart monitor beeping faster, alarms blaring, and the sound of running feet coming down the hall becoming louder and closer.

He's disappearing.

"Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay?"

"It's pulling me away," he says, his voice sounding like a distant echo.

He's vanishing right in front of her and she can't stop it. She can't save him. Everything around her dims, and she locks her gaze with his. For a split second, the chaos is nonexistent. It's just them.

"I love you," she whispers, "I love you, Rick."

He smiles at her, her favorite lopsided grin.

She blinks and the world crashes back down on her again. The sounds are quiet, except for a long clinical beep that fills her head, loud and cruel—the sound of Castle's heart monitor flatlining. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for him. For his spirit. But...

 _No._

She feels a hand slip into hers, and she finds Martha giving her a look of shared grief and no—this wasn't over. He couldn't...he wasn't gone.

Not like this.

She releases her hand from Martha's and leans over the gurney to cradle his face.

Adrenaline pumps through her veins as she lowers her face to his and captures his lips with hers, a desperate and loving caress. She pours herself into him, kissing him deeply.

She eventually breaks away from him, stroking his stubble and lets her tears fall on him.

"Castle, please," she whispers, "Come back to me."

She lays her head on his chest and closes her eyes, blocking everything out. She feels a hand tugging at her shoulder but she doesn't want to move. She can't.

"Ma'am, we need you to step away," says a voice, but she's crying and she can't. Her Castle is gone.

"C'mon, Beckett, it's time to go," another voice says and strong arms are pulling her off him.

"Javi, let me go," she cries out, trying to wrestle from Esposito but he holds onto her, murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear.

She falls limply into him, broken. He was gone. She failed.

Esposito props her up and begins to move her towards an exit.

"Wait!" Martha shouts and Kate lifts her head.

"Look," the redhead says, pointing at his heart monitor. Kate pushes herself off Esposito and he lets her go, the loud beeping of Castle's heart monitor now echoing in the hall.

She gasps back a sob of relief and joins Martha who grasps her hand.

"I'm sorry," Beckett says and Martha shakes her head, speechless, and squeezes her hand warmly.

And then they watch, entranced, as Castle's eyes flutter slowly open, and he squints, the harsh fluorescent light too bright.

"Where am I?" he rasps, his face folding together in pain as he tries to sit up.

Martha glances at Kate nervously. "You're in the hospital, Richard. You had an accident."

He coughs, a big hacking thing, so a nurse rushes up to him, handing him a water. He takes it gratefully.

"How long was I out?" he asks once he finishes drinking and frowns when he notices the audience of people around him.

"You were in a coma for a long time," Martha says quietly.

"A year," Kate adds and Castle finally looks at her. Her heart leaps in her chest with joy.

"Are you my doctor?" he asks and Kate forgets how to breathe.

"Richard? It's Kate. Don't you remember, Kate?" Martha asks.

His eyes cloud with confusion when he looks at her and his eyes search her face for a sign of familiarity. He moves his head side-to-side, a silent no.

The world suddenly slows around her, and her body feels numb.

He doesn't remember.

"The apartment? The book? Nothing?" she whispers.

He looks at her blankly. She lets go of the rail on his gurney and backs away, everyone staring at her. They bend their heads to the nearest person and whisper, but she can't hear them, a loud-thumping in her ears the only sound in her head.

Her friends call out to her but she moves in a haze, everything fading around her. The automatic doors of the hospital entrance open in front of her and her feet carry her out, her head pounding and her heart breaking.

He doesn't remember.

* * *

She opens the door to the loft and walks in, shrugging off the doctor's coat. She took a cab home, and turned her phone off for the entire ride to give herself some time to think. To plan what to do next.

She stands in the middle of the living room and holds herself for a moment. The place feels empty. Too big. Pressing her with its emptiness.

No more Castle.

In the kitchen, she reaches under the sink, eager fingers finding purchase with the hidden bottle of tequila. She yanks the top off and takes a long hit, her throat burning as tears well up in her eyes.

She wipes at her mouth and nose when she's done, feeling weak and hollowed out. The alcohol buzzes warmly in her veins and her head feels a little foggy. She takes another hit and then another, eventually clumsily placing the bottle back under the sink and stumbling her way towards the bedroom.

She stops in the office and stares at the shades, and decides to open them. She was already spiraling, hard. She runs a finger across several notecards of her mother's case, the force of her movement causing them to fall to the floor. A delirious giggle slips from her mouth as she bends down to pick up the fallen pieces. She moves to tape them back on the shade, but then she pauses, deliberating.

 _I don't want you to work it alone._

She can't get him out of her head.

She starts tearing down the photos and the newspaper clippings. Damn him.

Tape gets stuck to her fingers and she tugs at, but it refuses to unstick. She finally tears the pieces away and surveys the mess she's created. Damn him for leaving her.

She unearths a box from behind a chair and begins throwing papers and bits and pieces of her mother's case into it haphazardly. She pushes everything from the desk into the box. She takes her books from the shelves and stuffs them in, the box suddenly overflowing. She closes it, cramming everything down and seals it shut with tape. She keeps taping and taping.

Damn him for forgetting her.

She feels restless now, her body shaking with unresolved energy. She needs more boxes. She goes upstairs and starts pulling out the ones she stored in the guest room.

Soon, Beckett finds herself packing everything up, her books, kitchen things, and clothes. Everything. Her head begins to clear.

She doesn't stop, doesn't let herself think about the man she left behind in the hospital.

It's not until well into the middle of the night does she stop and turn her phone back on. She has twenty missed calls and texts from her friends worrying about her.

She shoots a quick text back to them just so they won't keep bothering her about it. She freezes when she spots a voicemail from Martha blinking in the corner of her inbox.

With a shaky breath, she presses play and presses the phone against her ear.

"I wanted to let you know Richard is doing well, and they're going to keep him here for a couple days more days for observation. He's going to have to go through intense physical training to regain muscle mass and…" the older woman trails off in her clinical debriefing.

"Thank you. For bringing him back to me. To Alexis. I don't know how you did it, but I know I have you to thank."

"Uh, I have to go. The doctor needs to speak with me. But, Katherine?" Martha pauses.

"You should come see him." The message cuts off after that and Beckett plays it three more times before she starts choking on the sobs heaving from her chest.

Damn him for making her love him.

* * *

 **2 Months Later**

Castle opens the door to the loft and shuffles in, his mother trailing behind him.

"Alexis needs to be picked up from school later."

"Yes, Richard," his mother says with a calm smile.

"And the moving truck is coming at three to bring the rest of your stuff here."

"Darling, breathe."

Castle huffs and smiles at his mother. He doesn't know why he's so nervous. He looks around the space and inhales deeply. Everything is okay.

"The place was empty for most of the year, but we rented it out towards the end for a couple months," his mother says, dropping the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.

Castle absorbs his surroundings, the light pouring in from the windows, the familiar layout, furniture, and knick knacks all untouched and unchanged. But something feels different.

"Did you move something?"

"No. Is something wrong, darling?"

"I just have strange feeling something's missing."

"Everything's here. Just as you left it."

"Guess it's just been a long time."

He sets his bag down and removes his coat and joins his mother in the kitchen. He helps her unload the groceries.

"Mother?

"Hmm?"

"I've been meaning to ask…"

He rolls a lemon between his hands.

"Yes?"

"Who was that woman who revived me? I heard the nurses talking and they said she wasn't a doctor. That she pretended to be one to break me out."

"Richard," Martha says warningly. They didn't talk about how he woke up from a coma.

"You know who she is," he says.

"Yes."

"I want to talk to her," he says, setting the lemon down. "Can you put me in touch with her?"

She doesn't look at him, instead opening the fridge to put away the milk. "I don't think that's wise."

"Why not? She saved my life and I don't know why."

She turns to face him. "Could you please stop asking?"

"Mother."

"She wants to be left alone."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

Martha looks at him and sighs.

"She—"

The doorbell rings loudly and Martha's brows scrunch together.

"Are you expecting someone?" she asks.

"Maybe the moving men came early," Castle says as he makes his way to the door.

He opens it and finds a bike messenger on the other side.

"Are you Richard Castle?"

"Yes, who's asking?"

The messenger pulls a legal envelope from his bag and holds it out to him.

"You've been served."

"What?"

The messenger turns and leaves without further explanation. Castle's mouth falls slightly open.

"Who is it, darling?" Martha asks.

Castle lets the door close as he reaches inside the envelope and tugs out the documents. His eyes scan the words and his heart rate picks up.

"Richard?"

"It's Meredith," he says.

"She does remember signing the divorce papers last week, right?"

Castle looks up from the papers, his eyes a steely gray.

"She remembers," he says tightly.

"What do you mean?" Martha asks, leaving the groceries on the counter and going to him.

He holds out the envelope for her, his face hardening.

"She's suing for full custody of Alexis."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to all of those who reviewed, checked-in, and continued to follow this story. You guys are the best. As always, let me know what you think! 😊


	10. Chapter 10

**2 Months Earlier**

An incessant ringing wakes her. Beckett peels her face from the top of a half-taped cardboard box, her head aching and mouth feeling dry and cottony. She pushes the heels of her hands into her eyes, pressing the sleep and pain away. Taking a breath, she surveys the loft, piles of boxes and packing supplies spilling everywhere. The ringing starts again, and she stands up, her legs cracking and her neck twinging from where she slept on it.

She weaves her way through the mess into the kitchen, the sound of the ringing growing louder and louder. Shifting things around on the counter, she looks for it but comes up empty. She opens cabinets and drawers, digging her teeth into her lip in frustration when there's nothing to find. Her throat feels like sandpaper, so she opens the fridge angrily to grab something to drink.

She reaches for some OJ and spots her cell glowing in the back of the shelf. She puffs out a breath, blowing a strand of hair off her forehead. Of course.

She looks at the Caller ID and sighs.

"Beckett."

"Finally! I've been calling you for ages. Where are you? Are you ok? Why aren't you answering your phone?"

Beckett holds her cell away from her ear for a moment, Lanie's loud shouting sending another piercing ache through her head. She rubs a hand across her forehead and takes a sip of OJ from the jug.

"Sweetie? Are you there?"

She glances around the piles of boxes scattered around the loft, and her throat clogs as she remembers.

"Beckett?"

She takes a shaky breath and wipes at her eyes.

"I'm here. I'm here, sorry."

"Where the hell have you been? Your texts didn't say much."

"I'm fine. I'm at the loft and I'm fine. You don't need to keep checking in on me."

"Only if you don't drop off the face of the Earth again."

"I hardly dropped off the face of the Earth."

"You _left_. Your Ghost Boy woke up and you left."

"Lanie—"

"Hospital security had a lot of questions for us."

 _Shit._

"Are you guys OK?"

"We're fine. They didn't press charges considering the extraordinary circumstances."

"That's good. I didn't mean to leave like that, but…" she inhales sharply, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, "He doesn't remember, Lane."

"Oh, honey."

"I'm just some crazy person who tried to steal his body."

"You should go see him," Lanie says softly.

"I don't know if I can," Beckett whispers.

"I know how you feel about him."

"I don't…"

"That was quite a kiss."

She can't speak, her throat closing up.

"When are you gonna stop running away from the people you love?"

The sound of Castle's heart monitor flatlining resounds in her head and her chest tightens, her breaths shortening.

"I gotta go," she says.

"Kate—"

She hangs up and lets the phone clatter onto the counter as she wraps her arms around herself, her body gasping for air.

 _He's alive._

She repeats the thought, trying to picture him waking up, but all she can see is his spirit disappearing in front of her. She tries to slow her breathing, but it isn't working.

She needs to see him.

Her chest loosens at the thought. She massages her hand against her sternum and concentrates on the idea of seeing him. Eventually, her breathing evens out and her head clears.

She grabs her phone from the counter and picks her coat up from the floor, fishing for her keys and wallet. She shuts the door with a bang as she rushes out.

* * *

She peers her head around the doorframe, seeking him out and exhales in relief. His eyes are closed in sleep; his chest steadily rising and falling. She enters the room, her stomach churning and heart battering against her ribcage. Glancing at his heart monitor, she watches it beep unwaveringly and her stomach and heart calm. _He's okay._

Her eyes rove over his face, tracing the slope of his nose, the strands of unruly hair sweeping across his forehead and smiles. His skin has more color to it, and his lips have pinked up. Reaching out, she feathers a finger across the slash of his cheekbone, feeling him warm and alive.

"What are you doing?"

Beckett snatches her hand back and turns towards the voice. Her face hardens when she spots the bouncy mane of red hair.

"Ms. Harper," Beckett nods curtly.

The actress narrows her eyes at Beckett, her Louboutin heels clicking as she approaches Castle's bedside.

"Trying to steal him again?"

Beckett stands up straighter, her eyes flashing.

"Trying to kill him again?"

Meredith puts a hand to her chest.

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"If the shoe fits," Beckett grits out, her hand curling around Castle's bedrail protectively.

Meredith looks at Castle and then back at her, pursing her lips.

"Were you having an affair with my husband?"

Beckett's mouth falls open.

"What?"

"I can tell you're in love with him. But I've never seen you around him before. Before his accident, I mean."

Beckett closes her mouth, her heart rising up into her throat.

"It doesn't matter, really," Meredith says when Beckett doesn't respond and takes a step closer to her. "But I want you to stay away from him."

"Excuse me?"

Meredith purses her lips and latches her gaze onto Castle.

"He's still my husband."

"And Alexis' father and Martha's son. But you wanted to pull the plug on him even though they wanted more time with him."

"I was just doing what Richard wanted. I was following his health plan," Meredith defends.

"And taking his money," Beckett says pointedly.

Meredith presses her lips into a thin line.

"Hollywood not paying for your extravagant lifestyle?" Beckett adds, flicking her eyes to Meredith's designer outfit.

"Look, _Detective,_ you don't belong here," Meredith says, "I'm surprised security even let you in."

Beckett's fingertips dig into her palm. "Martha put me on the visitor's list."

Meredith shrugs and reaches into her bag. "Well, I also have this."

Beckett instinctively reaches for her piece but it isn't there. The redhead pulls out her cell phone, flipping it open and holds it toward her with a smug smile. Beckett's brows crease together, but she takes a step forward and cautiously reaches out for the device. Meredith shakes her head.

"Just look."

Beckett's eyes glance over the screen and stills.

"I'm sure the press would love a picture of the woman who tried to abduct Richard Castle. Your bosses maybe?" Meredith raises her perfectly trimmed eyebrow in challenge. Beckett blanches.

"I could have you arrested for blackmail."

"I can press send before you do," Meredith says.

Beckett looks at Castle, her heart aching. She doesn't want to stay away. But he doesn't remember her. She takes in a stuttering breath and faces Meredith, her chest feeling pinned down. She sets her shoulders back and summons her best serious cop face.

"You're not going to intimidate me with some picture, got it? I'll arrest you right now if I have to. But I'm willing to make a deal instead."

Meredith's face cracks for a moment. "What kind of deal?"

"He needs his family. He needs familiarity while he recovers. So if you really want me to stay away, then you have to be by his side. You can't leave him. But if that should happen, you make sure Alexis is able to stay with him," Beckett says, "Is that clear?"

"That's it?"

Beckett nods and the redhead snaps her phone shut. Sweeping her hair behind her shoulders, she gives Beckett a simpering smile.

"I always get my way."

* * *

Beckett leaves Castle's room without a backward glance, her conversation with Meredith tasting like metal in her mouth. Her chest feels heavy, like the broken down bricks in her wall are building themselves back up, her heart taking a defensive retreat. She wipes away the tears that manage to steal down her jaw.

She almost makes it out the doors before falling apart when Martha appears with Alexis.

"Hi, Kate!" Alexis chirps. Beckett lifts her lips into something resembling a smile.

"Hey, Lex, looking good." The little redhead giggles, touching her tiara as she hides behind the folds of Martha's dress skirts, a pink blush blooming on her cheeks.

"Katherine, darling, I'm so glad you're here," Martha says joyfully, throwing her arms around Beckett in a warm embrace. She closes her eyes, willing herself not to break. The redhead pulls away after a moment and smooths out a wrinkle on Beckett's jacket as if she did it all the time.

She feels herself tipping and mentally stacks another brick on her wall.

"Were you just visiting Richard?"

"He was sleeping."

Martha gives her a well-meaning look. "I'm sure he'll be awake next time."

"Actually…" Beckett flicks her eyes to Meredith coming down the hall. "I don't think I'll be able to stop by anymore."

Martha follows her gaze and reaches out to stroke her arm comfortingly. "Oh, kiddo. Don't let Meredith stop you."

"Mommy!" Alexis lets go of Martha's dress and runs to Meredith, colliding into the actress's legs and wrapping herself around them.

"I just think Castle needs time with his family," Beckett says.

Martha tugs Beckett to sit down on a pair of waiting-room chairs. "You know you're practically family now."

Beckett watches as Meredith pats Alexis on the head and the little girl beams as she looks up at her mother.

"It doesn't matter," Beckett says, her voice hoarse.

"If this is about Richard's memory, you don't have to worry darling. We'll tell him all about you. What you did for him, and—"

Beckett imperceptibly shakes her head and sets her hand on Martha's. "Actually, I don't think you should mention me."

Martha slips her hand away, her face arcing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I think we should keep it between us," Beckett says in a low voice.

"Whatever for?"

Beckett glances at Meredith and gives Martha a tight smile. "I just want Castle to have an easy recovery period." She stands up, her eyes like steel, another brick closing the gap in her wall. "And I don't think that includes a random woman with a crazy ghost story."

"But I thought…" Martha gets up and grabs the edge of her jacket. "I thought you loved him," the redhead whispers.

Beckett pauses, her eyelids slipping shut, Martha's words like knives.

"That's why I can't stay," she says, escaping from Martha's hold. The sound of Martha shouting after her fades away as she leaves the hospital and climbs into her car, starting the ignition. She drives out of the parking lot and pulls over a couple blocks later.

That's when she lets the sob tear from her throat, her hands clutching the steering wheel for support. After a couple minutes, she cleans her face, wiping away any trace of her moment of weakness. She locks him behind her wall and starts driving again.

* * *

A week later she's at Lanie's and settles back into the routine of her job, throwing herself into cases. Her solve rate has never been better. They don't ask her why she hasn't gone to see Castle. But she can feel their eyes on her back watching her closely, waiting for her to break.

The boys don't leave until she leaves, making sure she's never alone. It's annoying but sweet. Lanie keeps her distracted by taking her out at night. Sometimes she'll escape to the storage unit where's she's keeping her stuff and reads one of his books. Losing herself in his words all over again. At one point, she prints out the unfinished draft of Heat Wave from her laptop. She writes notes in the margins and it's like she's having a conversation with him.

She puts more time into the gym, waking up earlier and earlier each time to practice sparring and kickboxing.

One morning, she receives a Google alert for Richard Castle and Meredith Harper, and her stomach curdles. She forgot to disable it after everything, but she clicks on the article, her eyes scanning the headline, "Still the Queen of His Castle? Novelist and Actress-Wife Fight." Her heart flips as she hungrily absorbs the rest of the article.

 _It looks like an unhappy ending for the actress and the mystery writer. Famed author and recovering coma patient, Richard Castle, got into a noisy fight with his wife yesterday afternoon leaving a physical therapy appointment. Staffers allege Harper stormed out of the facility after the two exchanged words…_

"What's that?"

Beckett jumps in her seat. "Jesus, Ryan." She quickly presses the screensaver button and turns to him. "Do you need something?"

"Actually," he clears his throat, "You have a visitor."

Ryan steps away, revealing Martha behind him and Beckett stiffens.

"I didn't know where else to find you," the redhead says, "You left the loft without telling me."

Ryan retreats to his desk and she flashes him a glare before turning back to Martha, guilt clawing at her gut. She gestures for the older woman to take a seat on the chair next to her desk.

"I meant to give you notice, but I hadn't gotten around to it," she says, not quite meeting her gaze. Martha perches her bag on her lap.

"Where are staying?"

Beckett picks up a report she has to fill out and scribbles down some information. "I'm crashing with a friend until I find a new place. Don't worry about it."

Martha reaches out and puts a hand on hers. Beckett falters, laying down her pen and finally casts a glance at the redhead.

"I do worry," she says, grasping her hands around Beckett's. "And I'm not going to let you leave unless I know you have a place to stay."

Beckett gently removes her hands from Martha's and rubs one against her forehead with a sigh.

"This isn't your problem."

"I only want to help," she pleads. Beckett bites her lip. Living with Lanie is nice but she doesn't want to take up her space forever and her back _is_ starting to hurt from the lumpy pull-out.

"What did you have in mind?"

Martha smiles, her eyes lighting up. "Take my place."

"What?"

"My apartment in Tribeca! Oh, please. It would mean the world to me."

"Martha, I couldn't."

"I need to help Richard with his recovery anyway once he's released from the hospital. It won't be for a while, but I'll move back into the loft in the meantime and you can have my place."

Beckett worries the bottom of her lip with her teeth. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please. You brought my son back to me. It's the least I could do."

"I really don't know what to say."

"Say yes."

Beckett narrows her eyes playfully. "Will you let me say no?"

"Absolutely not."

"I guess that's settled then."

Martha offers her hand to shake on it. Beckett huffs out a laugh and bumps her mouse when she extends her own hand. Her screen lights up with the article on Meredith and Castle. Beckett scrambles to turn the computer off, embarrassment heating up her cheeks. Martha gives her an empathetic look.

"He's not serious about her, you know?"

"Martha—"

"He just thought it might be good for Alexis to have both parents in the same place for a little. Since she's already been through so much. If you'd let me tell Richard about you, he'd love to get to know you."

Beckett stands up, adjusting her blazer.

"I have some work to do right now, but I'll call you about the apartment, okay?"

Martha sighs as she stands up, a worn look overtaking her face.

"He would believe you," she says, putting an earnest hand on Beckett's shoulder before slipping past her.

A piece of her wall cracks.

* * *

Days later she moves into Martha's old place. It's smaller than the loft, but it suits her. The open space is quaint and matches her style.

A month passes by. And then another. The next time she visits her storage unit to bring the last of her things to her new place, she takes a moment with the one labeled Johanna Beckett.

Her fingers glide across the sealed tape, her hands stopping at the lip of the cardboard. She thinks of Castle, who didn't want her working it alone. Who didn't want her to lose herself in a dangerous rabbit hole. She can't bring him back to her, but maybe she can do this for him, so she picks it up and places it in the trunk of her car.

The next day she brings it to work and calls Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie into the conference room. She pushes the box towards them.

"I don't want to open this now, but when I do, I want you guys to help," she announces.

They all share glances with each other. They know what a big step this is for her. To let them in. Lanie gives her a proud smile.

"He really did a number on you," Espo says, surveying the box.

"What?"

"Javi, cut it out," Lanie says.

"Ghost Boy," he says, ignoring her.

"What makes you think he has anything to do with this?" Beckett asks, her chest tightening.

Espo opens his mouth but Ryan shakes his head.

"What he means," Lanie says before Esposito says something he'll regret, "Is that we're glad you're willing to work together on this," she finishes, nodding at the case file.

Beckett crosses her arms. She's tired of them walking on eggshells around her. "I want to hear what Esposito has to say."

"It's just, well, this is something you wouldn't have done before he came around, that's all," he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"And?"

"And you miss him. Why haven't you visited him?" Esposito says, gaining confidence. Beckett's arms fall to her side. Lanie and Ryan freeze. "I just don't get it. We break the guy out, save his life, and then he divorces his wife. What's stopping you?"

Beckett feels as if someone punched her in the gut. "He what?"

Esposito falters, seeing the shock cross her face. "It was a week ago."

"We thought you knew," Ryan murmurs.

"Oh, honey," Lanie says, approaching her and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Isn't this good news?"

Beckett bites the inside of her cheek and cinches her brows together, trying to keep her face neutral. "Uh, yeah." She combs a hand through her hair. "I...I just need a minute," she says, not able to look at their sympathetic faces as she leaves the conference room.

She shouldn't have disabled the Google alert. But it doesn't matter. She promised to stay away. He's not hers. Her chest feels hollow and heavy at the same time. She doesn't know how much longer she can do this. She has to move on.

She takes a calming breath and tries to read the case notes on their new murder board.

"Detective Beckett, can I see you in my office?"

She turns to find the captain poking his head out of his door and gives him a nod. When she enters the office, he gestures at the chair in front of his desk. Uneasiness begins to settle in her stomach.

"Sir?"

He turns his computer towards her, a newspaper article flashing across the screen and her heart sinks. _NYPD Detective Attempted Richard Castle Abduction._

"I've already received calls from the police commissioner and the mayor. It seems somebody took a picture of you and provided your name. What the hell were you thinking?"

"It's not what it looks like, Captain."

"It never is, is it?"

Beckett smiles thinly. She sounds like one of their perps.

The captain leans back in his chair, assessing her. "I don't expect this kind of behavior from one of my lead detectives."

She fiddles her fingers around her dad's watch as shame fills her gut, not able to find the words to defend herself. There is no logical excuse for what she did. And she can't tell him the real reason. He'd definitely send her in for a psych eval. So instead, she stays stoically silent, eyes unblinking.

The captain tries another angle. "The article says this happened two months ago. Why am I just hearing about it?"

"I don't know."

He gives her a hard look.

"Does this have anything to do with the Richard Castle case you reopened a while back?"

Beckett straightens her back. "No, sir."

"Are you going to tell me why you did this?"

"I think it's better if I didn't."

"Then you won't mind if I take your gun and badge, Detective."

"Sir—"

"Six-week suspension."

"Captain, please. I need this—I need to work."

"You should've thought about that before you put the reputation of this precinct in jeopardy."

Beckett glances at the headline, the dark bold letters screaming at her.

"I'm sorry I let you down."

"I can help you if you help me, Detective. Tell me why you did this."

She exhales slowly, deciding something. "I wasn't trying to abduct him." She stands up, unholstering her badge and gun. "I was trying to keep him alive," she says, setting them down on his desk.

Surprise flicks across the Captain's face.

"See you in six weeks," she says calmly.

"Detective, wait—"

She stalks out of the office before he finishes his sentence. She needs to move on. Six weeks sounded like a good time to figure out how.

The boys and Lanie give her questioning looks as she collects her coat and bag from her desk. She doesn't give them an explanation, not looking back as she boards the elevator. The captain steps out of his office to watch her leave, confusion written in the downturn of his brow.

* * *

Once she's home, she can't sit still. She wonders for a moment why Meredith decided to send the picture out. Was it because of the divorce? Was it...no, she has to stop thinking about it. She starts cleaning the apartment to distract herself. She scrubs, dusts, and vacuums until everything is sparkling. She folds all her blankets and fluffs every pillow, but it doesn't help.

Her cell starts to ring and ring. She doesn't want to talk to anyone, so she turns it off and goes down to the laundry room, stuffing a load of dirty clothes into the washer. She watches as it spins around and around. It's almost soothing. But then her stomach grumbles and she begrudgingly returns to her apartment where she discovers she has no food. Only moldy leftovers which she throws out. With a sigh, she turns her phone back on to call in an order of Pad Thai. Four missed calls from the precinct. And one from Martha.

A voicemail from the redhead blinks in the corner of her screen. Before she changes her mind, she decides to press play and puts the phone up to her ear, holding her breath.

 _Katherine? I'm not sure if you saw the paper today. It, well...I don't know who gave them that picture, but I want to apologize if it's causing you any trouble. I hope you can give me a call back. Richard's been asking questions about you, and I don't know what to tell him. He's been going through so much. Meredith is suing for full custody of Alexis, you know? She just sent the papers today, and—_

She snaps her phone shut, the facts clicking into place. Of course. Meredith went back on their deal. Oh, god. What was going to happen to Alexis? Was Meredith doing this just to spite Castle for divorcing her? Beckett rubs her hands over her face, her brain in sudden overdrive.

 _Now you can see him_ a voice whispers inside of her. But she shakes it off. What's the use of it now? He doesn't need her, doesn't know her. She already decided to move on.

A knock on her door breaks her out of her down spiral. It's probably Lanie wanting to drag her out for a drink and an explanation.

She swings the door open, and says, "Lanie, I don't—"

But it isn't Lanie.

"Are you Detective Beckett?"

All of the breath leaves her body.

"Castle?"


	11. Chapter 11

"Castle?" he says, raising a brow.

She opens her mouth and closes it, unable to find any words.

"My mother told me where I could find you. Can I come in?"

Beckett unfreezes and steps to the side as he walks past her. She watches him catalog the space, his foot tapping nervously on the floor. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck and turns to face her as she closes the door. She rakes her eyes over him, drinking in his new haircut and his freshly-shaven face. He still looks thin, but he has a healthy sheen and his skin is tan. Probably from the Hamptons. A quiver of heat blooms in her belly.

"My mother didn't tell me much about you, but she did say you were there the night of my accident last year. And you stayed with her and Alexis the whole night."

He's pacing the floor, spinning out his facts. It reminds her of when they were solving cases together and her heart leaps out towards him.

"You stayed in touch for a while after but then my mother stopped calling you. She didn't say why."

He stops and finally looks at her, his eyes searching her face.

"Then you broke me out of the hospital to stop them from pulling the plug on me."

He takes a step closer to her.

"Why would you do that? Did we—?" He motions between them. She feels like laughing but bites down a smile and shakes her head instead.

"Then why?

She shifts her eyes away from his piercing blue gaze, her heart pounding. She moves toward the kitchen and starts opening up cabinets.

"You want a drink?" she asks, pulling out a bottle of wine and some stemless glasses.

"Please."

She watches him gulp down half of his sauvignon blanc and finds herself staring at his golden throat contracting around the wine. It's weird seeing him drink something. She's used to having him creepily stare at her while she eats and drinks.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks and pats his cheeks. She blinks and blushes, shaking her head. He takes another sip and then sets the glass down, his fingers tracing the base. He suddenly looks very tired and she wants to smooth out the worried creases on his face.

"I'm sorry to barge in here, but it's been a long day, and I just wanted something to make sense."

"Your mother told me about the custody suit. I hope everything works out," she says and he looks up at her, his eyes bluer than she remembered.

"You and my mother seem close. This used to be her place, right?"

Beckett nods as she takes a sip of her wine, deciding what else she should say to him.

"She wanted to make sure I had somewhere to stay after…" Beckett pauses, taking a breath, "After I left the loft. I was a tenant there for a couple months while you were in your coma."

"You were the tenant?"

"Yes, but I didn't realize it was your place until—" she stops, losing her nerve.

"Until what?"

Was she really going to do this? Tell him the truth? Her chest feels tight and her eyes grow wet.

"Hey," he says softly. "You don't have to tell me right now."

She tilts her head back, trying to hold back the wave of emotion betraying her. She hates him for a brief second. Hates him for making her feel this way.

She doesn't notice him get up from his seat and approach her.

"I'm sorry if this is too much," he says gently and she gasps when he reaches out as if to touch her in consolation. She reflexively takes a step back, her body vibrating. She doesn't trust herself if he were to touch her right now.

He holds up his hands. "Sorry."

She doesn't think she can do this. How do you tell someone you fell in love with their ghost?

"You're fine, it's just, uh, I don't think you'd understand it."

"Is it because you're a crazy superfan?"

"What?"

"I saw my books on your shelf," he says sheepishly.

"Your books," she says slowly, a thought striking her. She leaves the kitchen and disappears into the living room. Castle follows her apprehensively.

Beckett moves his books around, her fingers searching for something lodged behind them. She tugs at it and pulls out a stack of papers bound together by brass pins. It's worn and crumpled with red marks dotting the surface. She thumbs it open, tracing the notes she added in the margins. Castle coughs and she flips its shut. With a shaky breath, she holds the manuscript out to him and he takes it, intrigue arching in his brow.

"Heat Wave," he reads aloud and then flicks his gaze to hers. "What is this?"

"Something that might have the answers you're looking for," she says, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Are you always this cryptic?" he asks.

The corners of her mouth lift into a small smile.

"You can take that with you."

He opens his mouth, uncertainty furrowing lines in his forehead. "Did you write this?"

"Only whatever's in the margins," she says, ducking her head to hide behind the curtain of her hair.

His eyes brim with question, but he doesn't push her further. He shuffles his feet.

"Is there a way I can reach you to follow up?"

"Your mother has my number," she says, avoiding his eyes.

"Right, well, it was nice meeting you, Detective," he says.

"Kate," she says, opening her door.

He smiles, giving her a warm look as he steps through the door frame.

"See you soon, Kate."

"Give Martha and Alexis my best," she says after him. His lips turn up before he turns his back on her. She watches him leave, not quite believing he'd been there in the first place. Once he's gone from view, she shuts the door and leans against it for a moment, trying to quell the beat of her heart and cool the sudden flush of heat on her skin.

So much for moving on.

* * *

The next day, she calls the boys and Lanie back, letting them know she's going to be fine. They want to protest her suspension but she doesn't want them putting themselves at risk. She'll deal with it when she wants to. Lanie pushes to get drinks with her, but she declines.

She barely fell asleep the night before, hundreds of different questions running through her head. What was he going to think of _Heat Wave_? Would it confuse him more? Was it too revealing? Oh, god. He was never going to contact her ever again, was he?

She leaves her apartment before she starts walking in manic circles and goes to the gym to blow off some of her pent-up energy.

She's hitting and kicking all of her fears and frustrations into a punching bag when someone calls her name, and she takes a step back, looking for the voice.

"Bex, is that you?"

Beckett spots her blonde friend weaving her way through rowing machines and weights, a small towel slung over her shoulder and sweat beading down her forward.

"Maddie?"

"Oh my gosh, how have you been? I saw you in the paper yesterday, and I meant to call, but I can't believe you tried to break that Castle guy out of the hospital! That's so awesome. The article said he's out of his coma now. Sounds to me like you saved his life," the blonde rambles as she takes a swig from her water bottle.

Beckett blinks and opens her mouth, a stunned laugh falling out. "Uh, yeah. I guess so," she says, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"You're in so much trouble for not calling me sooner! Have you seen him since? Does he know about you seeing his..." Maddie looks around and mouths _ghost._

"There was a lot going on," Beckett says with a weak smile, shame growing in the pit of her stomach. She clears her throat, her brows twitching together as she inhales quickly. "And no, he doesn't know."

"Doesn't he remember?" Maddie says, quirking her head to the side.

"No, he, uh, doesn't," Beckett says, looking down at her gloved hands.

"Was there something important you wanted him to remember? Other than being a ghost?" Maddie prods, curiosity gleaming in her eye.

Beckett gives Maddie a long look.

"We became friends during our time together, and…I miss what we had."

"Sounds like you became a little more than friends," Maddie says. "The Kate Beckett I know doesn't just break anyone out of hospitals." The blonde winks at her conspiratorially.

Beckett coughs to hide the blush blooming on her chest and glances away from her friend for a moment.

"You're totally red right now! Shut up, you guys so had the hots for each other. Please tell me you had ghost sex."

"Maddie!" Beckett protests, pushing at the blonde's shoulder. Maddie puts her hands up and giggles.

"I'm kidding! Well, not really. I just wanted to know if it was possible."

Beckett snorts, covering her pink cheeks with a gloved hand for a moment.

"But wait, what happens next? Are you gonna tell him how you feel?" Maddie asks eagerly.

"He doesn't know who I am," Beckett replies, "But...he did come to my place asking questions about the article."

"What did you say?" Maddie gasps.

"Not much. I wasn't sure what to tell him. But I gave him a book I helped him write while he was...you know, but I don't know if it was the right thing to do. He's going to think I'm crazy."

"I'm sure he already does, sweetie."

"Excuse me?" Beckett says, her eyes blinking.

"You tried breaking him out of a hospital for seemingly no reason. But he still wants to know your story. Doesn't that count for something?"

Beckett's brows angle down in consternation. "I guess so."

Maddie places a hand on Beckett's shoulder and gives her a consoling look. "Listen, you've experienced tough things in your life and always come out stronger on the other side. If you don't tell him the truth, it'll eat you up inside."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're the girl who stole her mom's make-up and snuck out of the house in the middle of the night," Maddie says, "And then cop to it the next day because you didn't like the thought of lying to your parents." Beckett scrunches her eyes at the blonde, a smile growing at the edge of her mouth.

"When did you get so wise?"

"Hey!"

Maddie flicks her towel at Beckett who throws her hands up in defense, grinning widely. Her cell, laying on a bench nearby, starts vibrating, and the grin slides from her face. She quickly grabs the phone after removing her boxing gloves from her hands and reads the caller ID. She doesn't recognize the number.

Turning to Maddie she says, "I think this is him."

"Him who? Castle? Answer it!"

Beckett inhales a breath and gives Maddie a nervous glance.

"I don't know what to say…"

"Just answer it," Maddie says, grabbing the phone and opening it. She holds it out to Beckett who takes it into her hand reluctantly.

"Hello?" a voice asks. The blonde throws her an encouraging thumbs up before Beckett brings the phone to her ear.

"Beckett," she edges out.

"Kate? Hi, uh, this is Richard Castle."

"Hi," she says shakily.

"Put it on speaker," Maddie whisper-shouts. Beckett obliges and holds the phone between them.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over to the loft for dinner tonight."

Maddie mouths _oh my god,_ while Beckett grips the phone tightly with her hand. Her mouth feels dry all of a sudden.

"Kate?"

"Say yes!" Maddie urges.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yes, sorry. Bad connection. I would…"

Maddie nods her head, rolling her hands together, looking at her expectantly. Beckett shakes out of her daze.

"I would love to," she finishes and Maddie pumps her fists.

"What time?"

"Does seven work?"

"Seven? Seven is great."

She curses herself inwardly for sounding so stupid.

"Great. I'll see you then."

"Great," she breathes out, a smile suddenly dimpling her cheeks.

Silence hangs in the air a bit, neither of them hanging up.

"Kate?"

"Yes?"

"I can't wait to see how the story ends."

Hope swells in her chest as words catch in her throat.

"Until tonight?" he asks.

"Until tonight," she responds softly, her heart thrumming in her chest.

She hangs up, a stunned grin spreading across her face as Maddie grasps her arm, squealing.

"Oh my god! You _have_ to tell me how it goes. Will you call me after? Tell me everything?" she asks, bouncing on her feet. Beckett stares at her for a moment before enveloping the blonde in a tight, grateful hug.

"Thank you," she whispers into her friend's ear. Maddie squeezes her back.

"Anytime, Bex."

* * *

The guard flashes her a large grin and a "Welcome Back" when she arrives at his building fifteen minutes early later that night. Butterflies swarm in her stomach, fluttering up to her throat as she presses the elevator button to his floor. She tightly grips the bottle of cabernet she brought when she steps off into the hall and takes a moment to breathe deeply in and out before raising her hand to knock.

"Hey, you're early!" Castle cries out when he swings the door open, his fingers still buttoning the top of his light blue dress shirt. She catches a glimpse of his exposed chest and arousal zips through her abdomen.

"Did you bring wine?" he asks.

She blinks, flicking her gaze to his eyes.

"Uh, yes. It's a cabernet," she says, holding it out to him. He smiles as he takes it from her and she slips her coat off, automatically hanging it in the closet. He chuckles.

"You really used to live here, didn't you?"

She grins shyly, self-consciously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She follows him into the kitchen where they find Alexis on a stool and Martha behind her, the older woman helping her guide a spoon that stirs a bubbling red sauce.

Guilt crawls in her gut at the sight of the older redhead. It's been two months since Martha came to the precinct and offered her a place to stay. She hadn't answered any of the woman's calls since.

"Look who I found," Castle announces.

Martha looks up at her, her face breaking open with delight. "Katherine, you made it!"

Castle rustles in a drawer for a wine opener.

"That smells amazing," Beckett says, not quite sure where to stand.

The older woman whispers in Alexis' ear, entrusting her with the sauce before making her way to Beckett. The detective doesn't expect the warm embrace that follows, tears suddenly clogging her throat.

"I'm sorry," Beckett whispers.

Martha pulls back, her mouth pulling down into a frown. "Whatever for?"

"Shutting you out," she says, her eyes beginning to water.

"Hush, now." Martha murmurs, brushing her thumb across Beckett's cheek. "None of that."

A choked-up laugh slips from Beckett's mouth as she pushes the heel of her hands into her eyes.

"I don't know where that came from," she says.

Martha gives her an affectionate, knowing smile.

"Why don't you have a seat while I grab you a glass?"

Beckett nods and catches Castle gazing at her with curiosity, his hand paused at the neck of the wine bottle. She quickly casts her eyes down and twists her hands together nervously. She needed to get it together.

At dinner, the conversation flows easily. Martha is full of bright smiles and shows off her 30-day chip from AA. Alexis chatters about her favorite animal—otters—and Beckett talks about her father and work, carefully avoiding any mention of her suspension. She finds Castle looking at her when he thinks she isn't looking and her heart pulses.

When Alexis' eyes begin to droop as they clear the table, Martha gathers the girl gently in her arms and takes her upstairs to bed. Beckett admires Alexis' serene face, socked out on Martha's shoulder, happy that the girl has finally found some sleep. She turns to Castle as he puts the last of the dishes away.

"Is she going to be alright? With the custody case and everything?"

He watches Martha reach the top of the stairs with Alexis and scrubs his face with his hands, a tired sigh falling from his lips.

"Meredith is only doing it for attention. If I give her a monthly allowance, she'll be sure to drop it."

"That almost sounds too easy," Beckett says, raising a brow.

"You'd be surprised by the things Meredith will do to get what she wants."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Beckett says with a deprecating huff.

"What does that mean?" Castle asks, walking towards the counter and taking a seat by her.

"It's nothing. I didn't mean anything by it," she fumbles, taking a sip of her wine. He frowns.

"Did Meredith do something to you?"

Beckett stays silent, fiddling with the stem of her glass.

"She's the one who sent that picture to the paper, wasn't she?" he asks in the dead quiet.

She flicks her gaze to his, her eyes widening. "How—"

"I knew it! I'm going to kill that woman," he says, reaching for the landline.

"No, don't," she says, snatching the phone away. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Of course it does. I mean, what about your job? How did they react to the article? I can't imagine it went over very well."

Beckett bites her lip.

"Oh, god," he groans, "Did they fire you?"

"No! Just a suspension. But I don't mind. I needed the break anyway," she says quickly.

"Are you sure? I'm good friends with the mayor. I could call him and smooth things over." He looks at her expectantly, his eyes begging for apology. "It would be the least I could do," he adds. Gratitude sweeps through her but she shakes her head, slipping off her seat.

"No...that's ok." She drifts towards the living room and takes in the space, noticing the differences from when she lived there. Alexis' things are scattered about and she can see Martha's colorful touch decorating the walls. It's cozy and lived-in. Not empty.

She turns to see Castle trailing after her. "I didn't come here tonight to get my job back," she says softly.

Beckett reaches the bookshelves separating the office and living room and glides her fingers over the spines of novels.

"Why did you come here tonight?"

She glances over her shoulder at him. She doesn't know if it's the wine or the look in Castle's eye, but she feels brave.

"To tell you the truth."

His eyes search her face, questioning.

"Ever since I saw you yesterday, there's something I can't quite put my finger on."

"Oh?"

"But then you gave me this." He walks past her into his office and picks up the _Heat Wave_ manuscript. Her heart starts to race.

"And I thought maybe I wasn't just thinking things. I thought…" He fastens his eyes on her, his irises a luminescent blue. "That maybe this story isn't just like fiction."

Beckett takes a step toward him, drawn to him like a magnetic pull.

"You talk in here as if you know me. As if we know each other," he says. Her heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest.

"Ever since I woke up from my coma, I've been having these weird dreams. And I didn't know what to think of them."

He sets down the manuscript and she thinks of the last night he was a ghost. When he told her she was his unfinished business, their hands glowing when they brought them together.

"It wasn't until tonight that I figured it out," he says.

 _I think if you could ever really touch me...I might wake up from all of this._

"Figured what out?" she barely whispers.

"I was dreaming about you."

It's like a switch flicks in her brain as he takes a step toward her.

He needs to wake up.

The world slows around them as she reaches out and takes his hand. He doesn't stop her as she slides her palm over his, finally touching him, finally feeling the flesh of him and pump of blood beneath his skin.

It's like a physical jolt being able to touch him, like every nerve in her body is electrified by him. She gasps slightly when a golden light appears between their clasped hands and the world spins.

And then his eyes, so blue and clear, find hers and he looks at her, awestruck.

She lifts her free hand up to lightly touch his cheek.

"Hey," she says as he takes her in, his eyes re-memorizing the planes and angles of her face.

"It wasn't just a dream," he says as if dumbfounded.

"No," she says and tears crowd the corner of her eyes. He brings his hands up to cup her face, his expression filling with apprehension and wonder.

"Kate?"

"Yeah," she says breathlessly, a tear-stained laugh falling from her lips.

"You made more time," he says hoarsely.

She nods wordlessly.

"Thank god," he says before his hands are tangling in her hair and pulling her to him, lowering his mouth to hers. His kiss is soft and eager and cracks her open. The back of her knees tremor, her whole body aching for him. She presses herself closer to him, her hands fisting in his shirt.

They only break apart when they run out of air and rest their foreheads together.

"Hi," he says, a dopey grin splitting across his face.

She curls her hands around his ears, her thumbs brushing at the jut of his cheekbone.

"I missed you so much," she whispers.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," he says, closing his eyes at her touch.

"You're here now." She raises herself on her toes, capturing his lips again. She doesn't want to ever stop, but she pulls away eventually.

Castle stares at her in amazement. "I can't believe I didn't remember you. I mean, why didn't you just tell me? Why give me the book?"

"Because you already thought I was crazy."

"But I would've believed you."

"I just didn't know if I believed it myself anymore," she whispers.

He wraps his arms around her and she lays her head against his chest. She feels the last of the bricks in her wall fall away, turning to dust. She's safe now.

"Did you mean what you said in the hospital?" he says in a low voice. "Do you…" he falters, "do you still feel that way?"

She lifts her head up and raises her hands to cradle his jaw. She looks into his eyes, his pupils wide and dark. Afraid.

"I tried really hard to feel something else," she says. "I tried to stop loving you." Her voice wobbles. "But I couldn't."

"Oh, Kate," he says, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs. "I never meant to hurt you."

She blinks back her tears, sniffling. "I know," she says, a small smile blooming across her lips when she looks up at him.

"I think I was already falling in love with you again tonight. Before you brought me back."

A thrill surges through her. "Again?" She smirks as she lifts a brow.

"Haven't I told you I'm madly in love with you?" he asks.

"I don't think you ever got around to it," she says, "You know, with you being a ghost and almost dying and everything," she adds, holding back a laugh.

He presses his grin into hers.

"I love you, Katherine Beckett."

"Oh, yeah?" she says, circling her arms around his neck.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"That depends," she says, "Will you make me coffee in the morning?"

"I'll even make you breakfast," he says.

She laughs and he bends his head to hers, opening the seam of her mouth in a heated kiss. She sighs into him.

"Is it too early to ask you to move in?"

"Castle!"

"What? We've lived together before."

She rolls her eyes at him but smiles.

"That doesn't count, Ghost Boy," she says, slipping from his embrace. She keeps hold of his hand as she walks backwards towards the bedroom, tugging him after her.

"My safe word is apples," he says and she laughs again.

She stops him at the door, her hand on the knob, taking him in and reveling in the moment. Feeling the happiness coursing through her. It's been so long since she felt this happy.

She finds his eyes and the love shining out of them. She just wants him.

"Ask me again in the morning."

* * *

 **A/N:** This story has been the biggest challenge for me as a writer, and I just want to thank you all for continuing to show up to review and favorite it. Your enthusiasm was always my number one encouragement and it's been an absolute joy. Yours truly, L


	12. Epilogue

**A/N:** I always wanted to write an epilogue for this story, but it took a while for inspiration to strike and to find an ending I was happy with _—_ hope you like it!

* * *

 **9 Months Later**

"Yes, Gina, I know it's my launch party," Castle says into his phone with slight exasperation.

"Are you on your way, at least?" she asks in a shrill panic.

Kate slips the phone from his hand and puts the cell to her ear.

"We're just around the corner, Gina," she says. Nodding her head, she hums as his editor yells about punctuality and the mayor. "I'll make sure he comes in time for the speech. I'm not letting him out of my sight, I promise you." Her fingers grasp his tightly. This time he was going to arrive.

He peeks out the window at the police escort guiding their path towards the venue. It was just Ryan and Esposito, but Kate insisted on the added protection.

When Alexis had seen the flashing siren on the undercover unit, she'd begged to ride with Uncle Javi and Kevin. Martha had laughed, joking that the girl was taking after her father before volunteering to ride with the four-year-old and stepping into the squad car.

Kate snaps the phone closed and tucks it into his coat pocket. "All set," she sighs. She pats her free hand on his chest and lays her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.

His heart cracks open at the sight of her so relaxed and content. Happy.

"Stop staring at me, Castle," she says.

He chuckles and smooths his thumb over her left hand, resting it on the ring he'd put there last week. She lifts her head at his touch, a knowing smile on her lips.

* * *

 **One Week Earlier**

 _Kate fumbles with the key to the loft as she tries to open the door. Work went longer than she expected and Castle had left early for a last-minute book meeting. It was a tough case and she missed his silly theories and reassuring smiles._

 _She finally eases the door open, and she spills into the loft, her bag dropping from her shoulder as she removes her coat._

" _Castle, you home?" she calls out as she puts her things in the closet. The place is silent. Beckett's eyebrows pinch together. She checks her watch. His meeting was supposed to be over by now._

" _Martha? Lex?"_

 _That's when a small redhead comes barreling down the stairs. "Kate, Kate!"_

" _Woah, slow down," says Beckett as the little girl crashes into her. "It's good to see you, too," the detective laughs as Alexis throws her arms around her._

 _Giggling, the redhead pulls away and then tugs at Beckett's hand. "C'mon!" She starts leading the brunette up the stairs._

" _Where are you taking me?"_

" _Daddy has a surprise," Alexis says matter-of-factly._

" _A surprise?" Beckett says, amused. She follows the girl into the hallway and stills when she sees the ladder to the roof. It's wreathed in fairy lights and Martha's standing next to it with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes._

" _What's going on?" Beckett asks, nerves fluttering in her chest. She looks down at Alexis who covers her mouth with a finger._

" _Can't tell," she whispers._

" _Martha, are you alright?" Beckett asks, reaching out a consoling arm. The older redhead waves her off._

" _I'm sorry, darling," she says with a sniffle, "You how I get emotional. Richard's waiting for you," Martha gestures upstairs as she wipes under her eyes. Alexis pushes at her legs and Beckett chuckles._

" _Okay, okay, I'm going!"_

 _She grabs the rungs of the ladder and starts to climb, cool air brushing the top of her head. When she reaches the top, she stops and sucks in a breath. She knew Castle was renovating the roof for the past couple of weeks, but he kept everything a secret. Now it's covered in flourishing greens, swirling rock paths, and blooming flowers_ _—_ _a real garden. In the middle is a circular patio surrounded by vine-draped arbors. And there are candles everywhere, casting the roof in a soft, shimmery glow._

 _Castle stands in a ring of candles on the patio. He's wearing a well-fitted suit and blue collared shirt that makes his eyes pop._

" _Is that your ghost outfit?" she asks, her lips quirking in mirth._

" _I didn't have a last minute book meeting," he says._

 _Her heart is suddenly beating out of her chest._

" _Because I wanted this to be big and…"_

" _Intimate," she finishes, her eyes meeting his._

 _He offers his hand out to her, and she takes it, his palm enveloping hers. He tugs her to him._

" _Hi," he says softly._

" _Castle, what is all this?" she asks, already knowing the answer._

" _I thought this place could use a little sprucing," he says with a shrug._

 _She rolls her eyes at him._

" _Your mother is practically crying her eyes out downstairs."_

" _That's the last time I ask her to help in a surprise proposal," he says, huffing in mock disappointment._

" _Is that was this is?" she asks, a smile taking over her face. "I don't see a ring."_

" _You really don't miss a thing, do you?" he says, reaching a hand into his pocket. He pulls out a tiny velvet box and brings it between them._

 _She can barely breathe. He's really doing this._

" _This is where I fell in love with you. I'm wearing this because this was how I fell in love you_ _—_ _a ghost of myself."_

 _She snorts._

" _You're such a writer."_

" _That's why you love me."_

" _You're an idiot," she says, her eyes welling with emotion._

" _You made me feel whole. You inspired me. And you broke me out of a hospital. No one's ever done that for me before. And I've never met anyone like you." He moves to open the box, but she stops him._

" _Wait, I want to say something," she says. "When I first saw you, it scared the hell out of me. But you got under my skin and I couldn't stop thinking about you," she says, bringing her other hand to play with his collar, "Because you were the one whose words saved me when I was drowning."_

" _Kate," he says, palming her cheek and she shakes her head._

" _I'm not done," she whispers._

" _Right after my mom died, you had a book signing in the city. I waited over an hour in line to see you."_

" _You've never told me this," he murmurs, rubbing his fingers soothingly on the shell of her ear._

" _Because it used to be a painful memory. A reminder of a time when I couldn't think of anything but my mom's death. But you…" she trails off, gazing into his eyes, "You made me laugh. You did that thing where you read right through me and said exactly what I needed to hear."_

" _You look like you need a drink," he says suddenly, a light sparking in his eye._

 _Beckett opens her mouth, stunned. "You remember that?"_

" _I didn't know that was you, but I always remembered the incredibly gorgeous girl with sad eyes from the Union Square signing. I think I wrote a short story about you."_

" _You did not."_

" _I did. I wrote that I was going to marry that girl."_

" _Okay, you definitely didn't write that."_

" _You're right, but…" he cracks open the velvet box, "But I'm asking her right now." He bends down on one knee, the simple but elegant solitaire diamond glinting in the candlelight. A tear sneaks down her cheek as she takes in the moment and the beautiful man in front of her._

" _Will you marry me?" he asks, his blue eyes glistening._

" _Yes, yes, I'll marry you."  
_

* * *

She reaches up and kisses him, squeezing his finger.

"Are you sure you want to announce the engagement now?" he asks, "We could just release a statement after the book hype quiets down."

"I'm sure," she says and his heart expands.

"And this morning, with the papers? You didn't have to sign those, you know?"

"Castle, stop it," she says, bringing a calming hand to his jaw. "I love Alexis," she presses, "She's my family, too. I just decided to make it official, okay?"

His throat clogs as he takes her in _—_ the beautiful and caring woman who adopted his daughter without hesitation.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I know," she says.

He chokes on a laugh.

"You Han Solo'd me."

The car pulls to a stop in front of a red carpet.

"Come on, Princess, we have a party to attend," she says, smirking.

Their driver opens the door and they step out together into the flashing lights.

"Look, it's Nikki Heat!"

* * *

She steps out her heels when he opens the door to the loft.

Martha carries a sleeping Alexis upstairs.

"Now I know why you didn't let me see the final draft," she says, running a hand over the dedication page of Heat Wave.

He rests his chin on her shoulder, his arms booking her waist. "I mean it, you are extraordinary," he says, dropping a kiss behind her ear.

She turns in his arms, winding her own around his neck.

"You didn't have to give me a co-author credit, too. Those were all your words," she says softly.

"But it was our story, and you helped me write it."

Her eyes shine as she looks up at him.

"I wish my mom could see it. She would've loved it. And you."

"Really?"

She nods, too overcome for words.

"Wherever she is, she's proud of you," he says.

She raises up on her toes and kisses him. She pulls away with a look in her eye.

"I, uh, have something for you."

She walks into their bedroom and grabs a bag from the nightstand, handing it to him. She bites her lip with barely concealed excitement.

"What's this?" he asks.

"Just something I bought for Alexis."

"For Alexis?"

He plucks a soft, cotton shirt from the tissue paper, confusion creasing his brow.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

Beckett gently takes the pink shirt from him and shakes it out so he can read the text.

"World's Best Big...Sister," he says.

His mouth falls open as his eyes find hers.

"Does this mean you're _—_ "

"Six weeks. I took a test yesterday, but I wanted to make sure so I went to the doctor's today."

"That's what your secret trip after lunch was!"

She nods, a huge smile splitting across her face.

He looks at her in awe.

"You're pregnant."

She nods again, beaming.

"Does this mean we'll have a shotgun wedding?"

"Or we could wait until the baby is born," she says.

"Whatever you want, but I can't wait to be married to you."

He bends to sweep his hands under her legs and lift her into his arms.

"Castle!" she squeals.

He peppers her with kisses. "Put me down," she giggles.

"As you wish," he says, and falls backward onto the bed, taking her with him. They become a tangle of limbs and breathless laughs.

Later, he lays a hand on her stomach.

"Do you think it'll have ghost powers?"

"Do you really want a baby that can walk through walls and disappear at any moment?"

"So you have thought about it," he says, grinning widely.

She shakes her head with a bemused smile. "I think I've had enough of ghosts for a while."

His mouth turns into a pout. "But if you had never seen mine, then where would we be?"

Her fingers play with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"I think we would've found each other somehow."

He shifts in the bed to face her.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, are you telling me you believe in fate?"

"I think I believe we'll always be each other's unfinished business."

He kisses her, his eyes gleaming.

She puts a hand on her belly.

"But if we do have a ghost baby, then we'll have to switch our diaper bags out for proton packs."

His jaw drops open. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah, Castle."

Her lips curve into that dimpled smile that's just for him.

"I ain't afraid of no ghost."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading and reviewing. If you recognize the baby reveal scene, I took a cue from Grey's Anatomy _—_ another great ABC show. I can finally mark this story complete! And if you haven't seen "Just Like Heaven," I highly recommend it.


End file.
